A Candle to Lead You Home
by Leydhawk
Summary: 4th mulit-chapter in the Home series. Tim and Sam are moving in together. Sam tries to settle into normal life, and a disturbing case sends Tim undercover as a gay navy officer. Still coming out to friends and family, they face acceptance and rejection, and begin to find out what a lifetime commitment really means in a practical as well as a supernatural way. Slash. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

A/N Welcome all to the next multi-chapter in the Home series. If you haven't already, please check out Every Step Leands Home, The Winding Road Leads Home, and Heading Out Toward Home. For a bit of background, read A Long Way to Home and Tim's Long Way to Home after Heading Out. If you jump in here, good luck. I would love to read what you think of this without the background of the other stories. Returning readers, I hope I don't disappoint. The story is 2/3 written, so I'm starting to post it, but I don't know how long it will be between updates. Thanks for checking this out!

Chapter 1

"I'm moving in with Tim."

A single sentence, declaring independence, committing to a total change of lifestyle, abandoning all that had come before; it could be interpreted in so many different ways.

Sam Winchester watched as emotion washed through his brother's expression: hurt, anger, a quick flash of fear, then the inevitable shutdown.

"_Whatever_."

Sam flinched. Dean knew the best way to hurt him, and Sam struggled to recall the observations and reassurances his lover, Tim McGee, had made and given. Dean wasn't going to be able to process rationally right away. But he loved Sam, and he would eventually understand that this was the direction Sam's life had taken and he'd accept it.

Sam went and packed. He glanced around his room when he was done. He felt nothing about the place itself, but he knew how momentous this was. He'd come anytime Dean needed him, Tim understood and supported that, but the constant existence of investigation and battle was over.

"That's it?" Dean growled from the hallway. Sam turned. His brother had a bottle of whiskey and had obviously been drinking it since the moment Sam left him. Sam sighed. "You're gonna walk out on your family to go be butt-buddies with that _guy_?" Sam's jaw clenched and he again went through all Tim had said in his mind.

"I'm not walking away from my family. I'm building the family I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. You'll always be my brother, Dean. And I'll always be there if you need me, but Tim is my future," Sam said as calmly as he could. He knew he probably sounded petulant but at least he was trying to speak reasonably and honestly. Dean leaned against the door frame, taking another long swallow straight from the bottle, and stared at Sam. The sigh he finally let out held the weight of the world. It was a burden Sam had seen him take on far too many times, and his resolve wavered. Dean needed him so badly, but Sam needed Tim. His throat tightened.

"You're right about one thing. I'll always be your brother. So... Look, Sammy, do what you gotta do. I'll be here," Dean said quietly. Then he shook his head and walked away.

Swallowing hard against the pressure of guilt in his chest, Sam closed his eyes and pictured Tim's sweet smile. This was right. It was painful, but it was right. _Tim_. His future. His home.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

When Sam arrived late Friday evening, he and Tim easily brought all of Sam's belongings up from the car in two trips. A couple of boxes of books, his laptop, a duffle bag of clothes, his camping backpack with the Army blankets the two had shared on their mountain adventure, and a crate filled with hunting supplies were everything Sam owned. Tim had cleared space on his bookshelves for the books, in his dresser for Sam's clothes, and had asked Gibbs to help him put a false wall in one end of his closet for the weapons and other oddments from the crate. The apartment looked no different, but Tim felt it. He looked at Sam with total joy in his heart. Sam grinned in response, releasing his nervousness. He wanted this, but it was a completely new and different way of living than he'd ever imagined.

They stood together in the kitchen waiting for water to boil for a cup of tea, and Tim reached up and stroked Sam's cheek. "You're getting pretty scruffy. You gonna grow a beard?"

"I don't know. If I'm not gonna be pre-texting, maybe I could. What do you think?"

"You're gorgeous, Sam. Bearded, clean shaven, or scruffy, it's all _you_ so it's all great."

The answer was so totally Tim; accepting and loving, that Sam simply turned his cheek into the caress and smiled again.

Getting ready for bed felt awkward and somehow different from when they'd spent nights together before. Putting on pajama pants and a t-shirt, Sam climbed into the bed and lay on his back while Tim finished in the bathroom. Tim flipped off the light and got in next to him, turning on his side and gently putting his hand on Sam's chest.

"How are you doing, Sam?" Tim asked quietly, his voice soothing in the darkness. Sam shifted over closer to him.

"I-I guess it's kind of scary. I mean... If I'll only be hunting occasionally, what do I do? Going back to law school doesn't appeal, so..."

Tim moved his hand up to touch Sam's face. "Relax about the big stuff. We'll figure that out. How are you, right now? Are you comfortable?"

Sam inclined his cheek into Tim's palm. The simple touch made everything seem like it would fall into place. All that really mattered was that he was here with Tim. Sam turned over and wrapped an arm over Tim, shifting down to rest his head on his chest. Tim stroked his hair tenderly and held him.

"This is all new, Sam. For both of us. And I don't care what happens in the future, I am just thrilled that you're here, that you're home. I love you, Sam," Tim offered. He squeezed Sam's shoulders in a hug and Sam squeezed also, then brought his face up to Tim's. Kissing the offered lips with a smile, Tim ran his hands across the ridges and valleys of Sam's back. They kissed languorously, then slowly removed each other's clothing, lips wandering over bare skin as it was exposed. When Sam dragged his soft lips surrounded by prickly facial hair over Tim's chest, Tim confessed his appreciation for the texture.

"I changed my mind," Tim panted. "I like the whiskers."

Sam grinned and continued, using the rough stubble in creative ways as they slowly made love. Spent bodies damp and entwined, they fell into a restful slumber.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Sam woke first the next morning, rising and showering before making coffee and breakfast for both of them. He ate but kept the eggs warm for Tim, sitting at the counter sipping his second cup and relishing the slow start to the day while he waited.

When Tim finally got up and came out, his smile for Sam was brilliant.

"Good morning," Tim greeted, standing clad only in his boxers. Sam grinned.

"Morning, baby. Mm, I like this look on you."

Tim blushed and Sam laughed, rising for a hug and kiss good morning. He got Tim a cup of coffee and retrieved the food he'd prepared. Standing in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter and drinking his own coffee, Sam watched Tim eat, his chest filling with his affection for and adoration of the man.

"I was thinking," Tim said around a bite. "The Star Trek movie opened yesterday. Do you want to go see it?"

Sam hesitated a bare instant. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Tim had seen the hitch before Sam's answer, of course. "You sure?"

Sam nodded eagerly to make up for his slip. He was in this relationship for good and all, so he vowed to himself he was going to get used to being in public with his male lover. "Wanna ask DiNozzo if he wants to come?" Sam offered. Tim's double-take was classic.

"Really?"

Sam smiled. "He already knows. Why not? It's an easier outing, pardon the pun, than dinner or something since we'll be watching a movie. I kinda gather we should break him in slowly to...us."

Tim felt warmth suffuse his chest. "I love you."

It was Sam's turn to blush.

After finishing breakfast, Tim looked up locations and times for the movie and called Tony, setting up the meeting. Happily, Tim went to shower. Sam listened to the water run, thinking of the times they'd showered together in the past, and considered joining Tim. A look at the time had him shaking his head. They'd likely miss the movie if he pursued his thoughts to their natural end. Still, the image in his mind of Tim with water sluicing over his body stirred his desire further. Maybe there was enough time for something quick...

Tim had just finished shaving when Sam came up behind him. Tim smiled suspiciously in anticipation at the look in Sam's eyes. Tim watched him in the mirror. The big, warm hands slid around his naked torso, one stopping flat against Tim's stomach below his navel, the other sliding across and up to skim over his tattoo and play with his nipple. Tim bit his lip and chuckled. The laugh turned to a gasp when Sam bent his head and licked the back of Tim's neck on the freshly revealed skin from the haircut he'd gotten the previous afternoon in preparation for Sam's first night at home. Sam nibbled across the skin to Tim's ear.

"Something funny?" Sam's deep voice was low, his breath softly caressing Tim's cheek. Tim realized he had closed his eyes and opened them to meet the beautiful complexity of Sam's reflection.

"N-no... Ah!"

Sam bit him below the ear and simultaneously tweaked his nipple. Tim wriggled in Sam's grasp, but Sam held his position, pressing Tim's body against him. Sam went back to a more sensuous sucking and licking of Tim's neck, and Tim relaxed, closing his eyes and letting his head drop back against Sam's shoulder, his breath quickening. He could feel Sam's erection against his back and it fueled his arousal. He brought his own hand up to Sam's head, running his fingers through his hair and cupping his head.

"Oh, Sam," Tim sighed.

Sam slid his fingers lower, under the elastic of Tim's boxers. Tim trembled, nearly panting. Sam stroked him, and Tim's hand tightened in Sam's hair. Sam groaned and ground against Tim's back. Tim arched and humped Sam's hand. Sam bit harder on Tim's shoulder, below where it would show in his work clothes.

"Ah! Yes! Sammm..." The name devolved into a long moan.

Sam had apparently had enough of teasing and made one of his fast position changes. Tim figured Sam would be an awesome lead if they ever danced, since he gave clear signals and got Tim to go exactly how he wanted him to with never a misstep. Tim found himself turned and leaning back against the vanity, his boxers around his ankles, with Sam on his knees before him in a heartbeat. Tim stepped one foot out of his underwear to spread his legs, and rested his hands on Sam's shoulders, fingers stroking in circles on the smooth skin. The soft touch turned to a tight hold when Sam's lips passed over his glans and Sam's tongue swirled against his shaft. Tim shuddered at the wet heat. Sam kept his strokes shallow until Tim begged.

"Sam, please, oh god..."

Sam enveloped him and Tim cried out. His dick buried in Sam, anywhere, was Tim's ultimate sexual pleasure. One hand went up into Sam's hair, the other braced against the wall, and when Sam began his long, deep bobbing, Tim took up his worshipful chant of Sam's name.

Sam brought a hand up and gently rubbed against Tim's balls. Tim shook with tremors, his voice cracking. Sam's fingers ran further back to play with Tim's hole. Tim sobbed and his hips began jerking. Sam sped up, feeling the tightening in Tim.

Light exploded behind Tim's eyelids as he came. In his mind's eye he saw come boiling up from his balls, splattering inside Sam's mouth and throat, and he cried out at the thought. Sam tenderly sucked every bit of orgasm from him, and helped Tim drop to the floor in front of him.

Tim let Sam support him as he caught his wind. Sam ran his hands lovingly over Tim; his neck and back, arms and sides.

Tim finally moved. He kissed Sam and gave him a shaky smile. The sparkling of Tim's eyes and the adorable smile made Sam almost as happy as knowing that the blow job he'd just given had been truly fantastic. Sam stroked Tim's cheek and returned the kiss.

"Are we gonna go to that movie or what?" Sam asked, his voice light as he got to his feet and pulled Tim up with him.

"But don't you - aren't you... I mean, I could..." Tim gestured to Sam's groin.

"Baby, I'm good. You know, uh," Sam flushed slightly, "how much I enjoy doing that." He looked down and only met Tim's gaze when he tilted his chin up by hand.

"No judgment here, I just don't want to be taking and not giving you anything in return."

Sam's mouth quirked into a smile. "Maybe I'll let you give and I'll do some taking later," he said suggestively.

"As long as that's...what you want," Tim said uncertainly. He was still worried.

"Tim," Sam's voice grew sharp and Tim's frown deepened. "I wanted to blow you. I think later on tonight, I'd like you to fuck me up the ass. How's that for clarity?" Both men's faces turned scarlet at the blatant vulgarity.

"Sam, I can't..." Tim swallowed hard. Tears filled his eyes and he rolled them at his own reaction. "Sam, I love you, okay? You love me. We're both men, and that kinda sucks for both of us, but we've chosen to be together. I enjoy having sex with you: however we do it. It's not what I'm used to, sure, but it's you, and I love it not only because it feels good but because it's an intimate and loving and beautiful way to express our feelings. I know you're uncomfortable with how things have developed, but please, I have to ask you not to demean either us or what we do by talking that way. Please, Sam." He shook his head. "I love you. No one else ever has to know any details of our sex life, and if they do and you'd be more comfortable if everyone thought our roles were reversed, that's fine. I don't care! I don't _care_ what anyone else thinks as long as we can be okay when it's just us. Is that... Can you... Oh, _Sam_," Tim felt his tears overflow and immediately turned away to wipe his face and hide them.

Sam wrapped his arms around Tim and held him tight. Tim buried his face down against Sam's chest, putting his arms around his waist.

"I'm sorry, baby. It's just... I don't know. I feel so... It's like I'm ashamed of it, but I'm mad at myself for feeling that way. I should _never_ take that out on you, though. I'm sorry. Degrading you or our relationship is the last thing I want to do."

"Or yourself."

"What?"

Tim drew back and looked into Sam's eyes. "Don't degrade yourself, either. Sam, I honestly think that doing what you do takes more strength, more will, than anything I've ever done."

Sam shook his head. "I don't know about that. But thank you for saying it. I know you believe it. I..." He shrugged. "I'm sorry. I love you, Tim."

"I love you too."

But Tim knew it wasn't resolved. He'd have to figure out a way to help Sam come to terms with their sexual expression.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

They'd agreed to meet DiNozzo outside the theater, and as they walked from the parking garage, Tim was pleased when he noted a change in how Sam accompanied him. Whereas previously Sam had taken up a protective, almost bodyguard position, he currently walked shoulder to shoulder with Tim.

"Hey, Tony," Tim said as they approached. DiNozzo turned.

"Hey, guys, how's it goin'?" He said casually.

"_Really_, dude? You're gonna ask about _'it'_ straight out the gate? _It_?" Sam rumbled, glaring and leaning forward to look down at Tony with as sharp of an angle he could manage. Tony's eyes grew huge and flitted to Tim then back to Sam.

"I - no - wait -" DiNozzo stammered.

Sam relaxed back and smiled. "I'm just kidding. Thanks for coming, man." He slapped Tony on the shoulder and moved past him toward the door of the building. DiNozzo's enormous eyes locked on Tim in question. Tim just grinned and went after Sam.

"Good to see you, Tony," Tim said as he passed. He didn't notice the bounce in his own step, but DiNozzo did. Sam held the door for both men, then followed them into the lobby.

Tim sat between them and the two agents spent the time before the movie catching Sam up on the plot of the first Star Trek reboot. Relaxing after the first laugh he gave in the opening moments of the film ("That was our ride!"), Sam straightened and put his arm across the seat behind Tim, who had become engrossed from the instant the lights first dimmed. Watching both the movie and his lover, Sam enjoyed the next two hours. Tim's physical and emotional reactions fascinated Sam. They had watched tv and movies at Tim's apartment before, but this experience was different, more immersive for Tim. Sam decided they needed to go to the movies regularly.

After the movie, the three men talked as they walked out toward their cars. Tim and Tony exclaimed over the revelation of who the villain truly was, Sam commented on his fighting techniques, and they agreed that it had been a good time. Tony still seemed skittish of Sam, but when they parted ways, they shook hands and Tony seemed to relax at Sam's genuine smile.

Making love that night, Tim put every effort into having it be loving and respectful. He slid inside Sam face to face, whispering words of adoration. In Sam's eyes he saw gratitude and love reflected and he pushed himself further, putting all his efforts into pleasuring his lover. Sweat across Sam's chest glinted in the moonlight from the window, his perfection making Tim's heart contract even as he thrust slowly, giving everything to Sam.

"Oh, Sam, you're amazing. _Oh god_, you feel so good. Oh, oh, so beautiful... My love, my sweet sweet Sam," Tim murmured. Sam's hips were meeting every motion Tim made, his head was moving restlessly, and Tim could feel the tension building. He slowed and Sam groaned. Tim leaned forward, kissing him reverently and stroking his face. "Sam, I love you. I love you," he whispered. Sam sighed his name and Tim began again, drawing the loving out, bringing Sam to the edge twice, three times. His control wavered at the panting whimpers Sam made when he slowed yet again.

"_Please_, Tim, oh god, please," Sam finally gasped. Tim responded immediately, firmly finding a rhythm to take Sam to the heights and this time let him summit and then fall.

Moaning, gulping, sobbing inarticulately, Sam finally came, his entire body locking, clenching, squeezing Tim inside him. The pulses of his orgasm made Tim cry out, calling Sam's name as he too climaxed. Tim fell across Sam, both their skin damp and slick. Tim's arms trembled with fatigue, and Sam's body shivered in the aftermath. Wrapped in each other's arms, they slept deeply.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

A/N I'm still struggling with where to put chapter breaks. Any advice on that would be appreciated. Reviews are also _greatly_ appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N I'm nearly done with the last bit of this story, so updates will come quickly after that. Just to let readers know, this is the last Home story I have mapped out. The big reveal at the end of Candle is the last ah-ha thought I had about my boys so I'll be waiting for inspiration to strike before I add more. They are so much part of my imagination right now, I'll probably keep writing them, but I won't be posting anything until I have more than fluff to share. I may do some re-writing of the existing stories; try to get them into the shape of an actual story arc. I'm just not sure. Thanks for reading, I'm still interested in any thoughts you have about my chapter breaks, or anything else about Home. Feel free to PM if you don't want to leave something in a review.

Chapter 2

They spent a lazy Sunday together, Tim on his laptop, Sam reading. In the afternoon, Tim decided to share what he'd been researching, although he wasn't reassured. 'Bottom shame' appeared to be common. He wasn't able to come up with any good suggestions for dealing with it. Being one another's only exception to heterosexuality only complicated their situation. He determined to continue his research but began to suspect they'd be better off dealing with their unique situation on their own.

"Sam?" Tim said quietly. He immediately put his book aside and Tim smiled. "I, uh, was hoping we could talk about, um, well, about how you feel..."

"Spit it out, Tim. No secrets."

"Oh-kay," Tim took a deep breath and blew it out. "It's sometimes referred to as 'bottom shame'. I think if we're open about it, it might help."

Sam set his jaw and looked away.

"Have you thought about..._why_ you feel this way?" Tim asked tentatively. "The masculine and feminine archetypes-"

"Tim," Sam interrupted. "I..." He almost denied wanting to talk about the topic and was shocked at himself. "How did _I_ somehow become the one who doesn't want to talk about his feelings?"

"You mean, like Dean?"

Sam shook his head but spoke in agreement. "Yeah."

"Because he's the man's man like your dad?" Tim answered, then realized the question had probably been rhetorical. Sam's head turned and he stared hard at Tim. Tim simply raised his eyebrows and waited.

"Shit. That's actually... Did you plan this?" Sam's mind whirled with his Freudian slip.

"N-no... Plan what?"

"I'm acting more like my dad because it's reactionary to my insecurity about...bottoming."

"That's good!"

Sam frowned.

"The awareness, Sam, not the reacting and insecurity," Tim clarified. Sam nodded.

"You were asking if I've thought about why I feel insecure."

Tim nodded.

"Growing up in an almost exclusively male environment, all very masculine men, it makes sense that I'm sensitive to the perception of myself being, or rather, not being, the... I don't even have the vocabulary for this, Tim," Sam finished, frustrated.

"Well, I - I've been studying up, actually."

Sam smiled. "Of course you have." He took Tim's hand and held it. "Awareness, huh? Yeah, that's always the first step, right?"

Tim nodded. "It's more common in African American men, since the culture encourages the extremely masculine archetype."

"I've always been...protected. I mean, Dean and my dad taught me to protect myself from an early age, but I'm the youngest. I know I told you a long time ago that I didn't just want to be a hunter; that I didn't feel like I fit in, I was a freak." Tim nodded, his heart aching with the recollection of little Sam, 12 years old, saying those things to him. It had created a sense of solidarity between them, since he had always felt like the outsider as well. "When...when Dean came back from hell... He didn't seem like - well, he'd been through more than I could imagine at the time. I thought I knew what we needed to do, and I became totally certain Dean wasn't strong enough to do it. I had to be the strong one." Sam took a deep breath. "There's... There's something that wasn't in the Supernatural books."

Realization dawned in Tim. "The demon blood. The addiction."

"What?! How did you-"

Tim squeezed Sam's hand. "It's okay, Sam. I know. Tell me how it applies to this?"

Sam stared at Tim, and decided to talk about that particular revelation later. Or not. If Tim knew he'd nearly become a demon himself by drinking demon blood back when they'd been trying to stop the apocolypse, and Tim still loved him, still wanted him, that was really all Sam needed to know.

"I thought a lot about why I did what I did, after. It started just from desperation, while Dean was, uh, gone, but when he was back, I...I guess I felt like I had something to prove. So, yeah, I guess, some insecurity there."

"Are you afraid Dean will find out you're a bottom and judge you?"

"Dean..." Sam ran his hand over his face. "I can't even imagine his reaction..." His stomach twisted at the thought. Tim put his arm around him.

"He doesn't have to, Sam. When I told him we were switch-hitters, it was to gross him out and get him to back off. I don't think he ever thought about what that meant. I don't care if we keep this completely between us. I just want _you_ to be okay with it. I want you happy and confident with me. But I _am_ uncertain you can get there if you still feel like you have to hide. I know that sounds like a contradiction, but..."

"No, baby, I get it," Sam leaned into Tim. "What did your research say about being...okay with - bottoming?"

"Just that it's sexually confident men who are confident bottoms."

Sam's mouth twitched in amusement. "Hmm. More...practice, then? Gain confidence by...doing," he suggested. Tim had to smile at that.

"For both of us. Yesterday, in the bathroom...I want to be confident with you, too, Sam."

"You're...awesome, Tim. You, well, you make it all so good..."

Tim shrugged. "Let's just agree it's good, together."

"Best sex of my life."

"God, yes!"

"You know, something I really love is when you get authoritative. It's _so_ hot," Sam said. Tim laughed and rolled his eyes. Sam leaned closer and got serious. "Dude, I mean it," he said. "Maybe sometime you could...be more like that in there," he nodded his head toward the bedroom.

Tim's eyebrows rose. "What, roleplaying?" Unconsciously he was shaking his head in a negative.

"No, uh-uh - "

"Good, 'cause I need you to know that I have absolutely no interest in having sex with anyone but you, even pretending, and I hope that you - "

"Baby, no. I am _yours_. Just yours."

Tim relaxed. "As long as that's clear...what did you have in mind?" Now he was curious what Sam would propose.

Sam smiled. "Um, well, the whole 'I'm yours'. You seem to...like that idea, the...possessiveness of that," he began. Tim nodded. "You say that I - top from the bottom - "

"I don't mind, Sam - "

"Shut up, man, this is hard to say so stop interrupting me."

Tim nodded again, biting his lip to remind himself to stay quiet. Sam's eyes drifted to the bitten lip and stayed there a few beats too long before he shook himself and looked back up to Tim's eyes.

"This...this would still be us, just...with more like you are when you're having to be...forceful, dealing with - "

Tim couldn't stop himself. "Is this a rape fantasy? Because I would never - "

"_Hell no_! Tim, will you let me finish? I said it's still us and I know you don't have that in you. I..." Sam wasn't sure he should continue. Tim waited, eyes wide, though, and the anxiety Sam saw in them wasn't something he could leave hanging. "I want you to take charge sometime. That's all."

"Just...take charge."

"Yeah."

"Be authoritative and forceful."

"Yeah. Look, I don't want you to think I'm some kind of submissive for you to dominate and discipline or whatever. Don't think I'm...Tim, I just...I want you to make me yours, the way, uh, the way you sometimes get, right at the end, you know?" Sam's face was brick red and there was such a shadow of uncertainty and fear in his face that Tim put his arms around Sam and pulled him close. Sam gratefully hugged Tim, the warmth and safety he always felt when Tim held him filling him. "You don't have to do it right now, just sometime, I'd like it, okay?" Sam said quietly.

"Would it spoil the concept if I said yes because I'd do anything for you?" Tim asked uncertainly.

"No. I love you, Tim."

"Oh, Sam. I love you, too."

~~~SPNCIS~~~

That evening, after Tim had taken time to contemplate Sam's request that he be more authoritative in bed, he decided to try. They were on the sofa, and the program they'd watched, streaming, on Tim's laptop had just finished. Tim closed the computer and handed it to Sam, gesturing he should set it aside. Sam did, then started to settle back against the leather of the couch.

"Talk to me, Sam," Tim said. Sam glanced over inquisitively and froze. He could see the look in Tim's eyes, the blue-green irises leveled at Sam, calculating, and an internal tremor ran through him from the back of his throat into his chest.

"Anything specifically?" Sam asked. His voice was deep, down in his lower register, and Tim saw that Sam's chest was rising and falling quickly. He let himself smile slightly as he tilted his head and studied Sam, trying to be casual but frankly appraising the attractiveness of his partner.

"Why...me," Tim replied. "Why only me."

Sam's mind whirled. This was his game, his suggestion, but the whole point was to follow wherever Tim led.

"We're a perfect fit. Your key, my lock," Sam rumbled. Tim raised one eyebrow. "First, and only, baby." Now Tim gave a head tilt, obviously unsatisfied with the response. Sam thought furiously. "When you touch me, with the tiniest part of a finger or a brush of shoulder, I can feel it straight through me. Just the heat of you beside me, or...behind me. It's a recognition, a resonance. _You_." Sam's eyes nearly glowed with intensity. "Only you."

Tim swallowed. The words affected him so emotionally, he wanted to weep. But this was about showing his own mettle.

"Close your eyes," Tim ordered. A faint smile graced Sam's lips as he complied. He waited, barely breathing, and the smile grew as he felt heat on his hyper sensitized cheek. He turned his head slightly as if to sun through a window. Tim kept his hand an inch from Sam's skin. He ached with longing at the sweet reaction. "Take your shirt off," Tim said roughly, clearing his throat. "Keep 'em shut."

Tim leaned back and watched Sam peel the t-shirt off. The tan skin of his shoulders and back shifted over his hard muscles, and Tim's belly tightened at the sight. Sam dropped the shirt on the floor and sat back with his hands resting lightly on his thighs. Tim slowly leaned in and let his breath skim Sam's shoulder. Sam smiled. Tim huffed breath across Sam's body, aiming for nipple and pecs. Goosebumps raised his flesh, and Sam's smile grew to a grin.

"Keep talking. More...basely," Tim ordered.

Sam licked his lips. "It's electric, thinking of having you inside me."

"Why me?"

"I don't even see other men that way, only you. I'd never want _anyone_ else to touch me like you do," Sam immediately responded, trying to reassure. Tim frowned. It wasn't what he'd been going for.

"But why _me_? You enjoy it..."

"No one else, Tim, ever," Sam was frowning, worried. Tim sighed and climbed onto Sam, straddling him.

"Open your eyes," Tim commanded. Sam obeyed, and the worry Tim saw there was heartbreaking.

"I was going for more sexual detail. I know you aren't interested in other men, and I trust you completely."

Understanding and relief flooded Sam, followed by embarrassment. "Oh, man, did I spoil it?"

Tim chuckled, then pulled a serious face. "Only if you don't start talking dirty right now." He pursed his lips and raised a brow. "Why me?" He demanded.

Sam flashed a quick smile then grew serious. "Because you're everything to me. I told you, your nearness is like...the radiant heat of a campfire in the cold. Then your touch starts a fire within me. There's only one way to quench it. You. Inside me, thick and hot. Pushing deep, making me feel like you're everywhere and everything. I feel you so far into me it's like you're massaging my heart, keeping it beating, like it would stop if you weren't there. My entire existence wraps around you, and nothing else matters while you're pumping inside me. Then when you come..." Sam groaned, his hips thrusting up against Tim. "It's..." Sam's eyes rolled up in ecstasy. "Oh god, it's the best feeling in the world. I feel you swell and throb and it's like the heartbeat of the universe, within me, stars exploding, supernovas, and I know it's your come filling me, and those moments we're...suspended in time. We're together, complete, incoherent but inseparable." Sam's eyes burned into Tim's, fire smoldering in the green depths.

Tim was trembling, mesmerized by Sam's eyes and words. His jaw had dropped open, but when Sam stopped speaking, it snapped shut and he smashed his lips onto Sam's. He kissed bruisingly hard, forcing Sam's mouth open with his tongue, needing to penetrate Sam and having only this easily accessible.

Sam accepted, drawing the rough, violating tongue into his mouth, massaging it like he would during fellatio. He was wildly aroused by Tim's forcefulnes and wanted more.

Sam's surrender to Tim's attack only served to fan the conflagration his words had ignited. He grabbed Sam's face between his hands, holding him tight, repeatedly shoving his tongue into Sam's mouth. Sam wrapped his arms around Tim's waist and moaned into his assault.

Recalling his plan vaguely, Tim slid one hand back into Sam's hair and took a firm grasp on the roots at the base of Sam's skull. Tightening his grip, he pulled, forcing Sam to break the kiss and lean back. They stared into each other's eyes, breathing hard. Tim stood, confident Sam would release his grip on Tim's torso, which he did, reluctantly. Tim looked down at Sam, lips swollen and moist. He nodded.

"Take my dick out," Tim said, his voice low and coarse. He relaxed his grip on Sam's hair slightly. Sam unfastened Tim's pants and freed the throbbing erection. Pre-come glistened at the tip, and Sam wanted nothing more than to lick it. Tim's fingers tightened. Sam looked up at him. "Take it deep. Keep looking at me while you do it." Sam shuddered and eagerly leaned forward. The full warmth and sharp scent were blissfully familiar as Sam sucked Tim's cock into his mouth and angled to deep throat it. The eye contact was difficult; Sam was inclined to close his eyes in concentration, but he followed Tim's instructions and kept his trained up. Tim gritted his teeth and hissed at the sensation. He held Sam's head with his dick buried fully in the heavenly mouth. Understanding filled Sam's eyes and he worked his tongue against the shaft, swallowing, massaging every way he could. Tim groaned and pulled Sam's hair, withdrawing Sam's mouth, then pushed him back into the position he'd been in. Sam's eyes grew darker as his pupils dilated in his desire at Tim totally controlling everything, including his breath. Tim used his hold on Sam's head to set the pace, holding himself fully encompassed for long seconds with each deep throat. He was shuddering and knew he wouldn't last long this way.

Firmly tugging Sam off of his dick, Tim then drew the tall man to his feet and kissed him again. Sam crushed Tim in an embrace, and Tim released the handle hold on Sam's head, gripping the powerfully muscled body to himself as they kissed.

Eventually, Tim broke away and pointed to the bedroom. Sam went eagerly before him. Tim left his own clothes in the living room and grabbed a jar from the kitchen then he followed, closing the door behind himself.

Sam stood waiting at the foot of the bed, smiling. When he saw Tim's nudity, it became a grin. Tim smiled back, shaking his head slightly.

"Having fun?" Tim asked.

"Oh, yeah. I'm ready for anything."

Tim laughed. "I hope so..." He held up the jar of coconut oil. "Strip."

Sam's look was anticipatory but he unbuttoned his jeans slowly, thrilled at seeing Tim's reaction to it. Tim seemed positively enthralled with the simple act, and Sam languidly slid the cloth over his hips, freeing his erection, and bent over to pull his pants off. He heard Tim gasp shakily and looked at him from behind the curtain of his hair, remaining folded over, his ass high. Tim's free hand was balled into a fist. It relaxed, and the tension drained from Tim.

"Stand up, Sam."

When Sam stood, Tim approached.

"I've told you how much I love your body, how amazing it is, and I want to touch you, everywhere. You're my Adonis. Mine. You're going to look even more god-like when I'm done," Tim informed him. Sam looked into his lover's eyes.

"Yours," Sam breathed, and waited.

Tim opened the jar and warmed some of the oil in his hands then set the jar aside. He grinned a little self-consciously as he reached out and stroked his hands across Sam's chest. He stepped around behind Sam and rubbed oil all over the glorious expanse of Sam's back. Moving back around to the front, he worked to coat the near side of him. Sam sighed at the sensation of Tim's sensitive fingers as they glided across his pecs, down his abs, up his sides. Watching Tim's face as he touched Sam was almost as pleasurable as what Tim was doing. Tim's lips were parted and Sam could just see the tip of his tongue against his top front teeth. Tim seemed to be nearly panting as he rubbed the oil into Sam's skin. Tim got more of the oil on his hands and continued further down; hips, pelvis, and finally, the massive throbbing penis.

Sam threw back his head and cried out as Tim slid his hands up the shaft, rubbing across the head and back down again. Tim's left hand continued stroking, and his right went down to gently roll Sam's balls in his hand. Sam was trembling and put a hand on Tim to steady himself.

"Tim! Oh god, oh god that feels so good, oh baby..." Words devolved into moans when Tim dropped down and slid his hand further back. Sam widened his stance to give access and moaned louder when Tim's fingers caressed past his perineum and stroked against his hole. Tim kept the hand job slow but felt how Sam's dick jumped at the pressure from behind. He didn't enter him, but teased, gliding back and forth across the ring of flesh until Sam was nearly gibbering.

"Oh-Ti-I-you-oh, _ah_! God! Need-babe-ugh, fuck! Tim! Oh, _oh_!"

The unintelligible words were like music to Tim. He kept on until Sam's voice rose in pitch, warning him. Tim slowed, then stopped. Sam was quaking, and Tim stood to hold him tightly. When the shaking subsided, Tim moved them over to the door and turned Sam to face it.

"Brace yourself against it," Tim commanded. Sam did, gripping the frame. Tim retrieved the oil and re-lubed his hands, massaging Sam's hips and glutes. Then he slid his fingers down between and Sam groaned and arched his back, spreading his legs in anticipation. The purity of Sam's physical offering nearly brought Tim to his knees.

"Oh, Sam," he sighed. He continued to massage Sam's ass, kneading the muscles, reveling when he flexed and then relaxed. His own dick was hard and drooling, but he drew the anticipation out. He started brushing his fingers over Sam's opening again.

"Ah! Tim, please! God, please, _please_, I need you! Please, Tim, ah, baby, _please_..." Sam begged.

"Not yet, Sam, not yet," Tim crooned. Sam jerked at the sound of Tim's voice, then growled his frustration at the words.

Tim oiled Sam's legs, and from where he knelt, ran his hands back up the slick flesh and spread Sam's cheeks apart. Sam froze, muscles locked, and Tim leaned in. He ran his tongue up the glistening crease and Sam shouted and dropped forward further, his head resting on the door. Tim zeroed in on Sam's hole and tongued it hard, forcing it open. Sam cried out again, a choking sob of Tim's name. Tim worked the area with his mouth, shaken by the reaction from Sam and throbbing with his own need. Finally, he couldn't hold back any longer. He stood and paused only an instant before sliding home. The pressure, finally, the friction and heat were powerfully intense, and panting, he had to pause or come right then.

"Yes! Yes! Tim!" Sam roared, his back arching. Tim ran his hand up and down Sam's side, the other going up to his shoulder and gripping there, holding Sam in position, stroking Sam's neck with his thumb.

"Oh, my beautiful Adonis, Sam, so perfect, mine, all _mine_..." Tim moaned. Sam shuddered.

"Yes, baby, yours, always yours, oh, oh, Tim, Tim! Please, _please_," Sam shifted, trying to move to get Tim to thrust. Tim slapped Sam's hip and Sam jumped.

"Wait. You wait," Tim snapped sharply. Sam stilled, breathing hard, nearly crying with need. Tim bent forward, putting his face up by Sam's neck. "You're so hot, I'm ready to come. Wait, my sweet Sam, so I can fuck you the way _I_ want to." Sam groaned and nodded. Tim slid his hand up to stroke Sam's hair, soothing, then put both hands on the broad shoulders. He shook with restraint, biting his lip as he slowly pulled out and back in.

"Yes, yes!" Sam cried. Tim started moving, choosing short double strokes, staying deep inside Sam, mimicking the heartbeat Sam had referenced before. Sam was gasping and sobbing in response.

"Feel it, Sam, feel me deep, I'll always be here, inside you, only me - you're mine, _mine_..." Tim muttered. That possessiveness spurred him on and he started thrusting harder, faster, no longer doubling, just smashing into Sam, looking down at the gorgeous back, the light catching on the oil, emphasizing every ridge and crease as Sam's muscles tightened and relaxed in time with Tim's rhythm. "Sam, fuck, my Sam! So perfect, god, so beautiful, oh, oh, Sam!"

"Tim! Yes, take me, fuck me, I'm yours! Yours!" Sam shook and writhed, the feeling of total connectedness overwhelming him. Eyes tightly closed, his entire focus was on Tim; his hands locked tight on his shoulders, his thighs and hips slapping against his own, and of course, his cock, reaching into Sam, touching his very soul.

"Mine, Sam, mine! Mine! Mine!" Tim cried, slamming into him, leaning forward, biting Sam's shoulder, calling to Sam, face pressed against Sam's back, thrusting, thrusting, thrusting. "Sam! Sam! Sam!" Tim felt come boiling up from the soles of his feet, twisting in his gut. "Gonna stop time, Sam! Gonna come, gonna fucking come!"

"Yes! Now! Now! Nowww!" Sam howled, clenching tight, lights exploding behind his closed lids when Tim's powerful spurts started inside him. That most beloved sensation sent his own climax erupting from his balls; hard, jetting streams of come splattering the door and floor.

Tim screamed hoarsely, utterly transported, fusing, melting, the astronomical orgasm whiting out his vision, stealing strength from his legs and arms. His entire world was Sam, both their orgasms coupling to unimaginable heights together.

They collapsed in a heap, legs giving out, sagging together to the floor, entangled, gasping, still moaning one another's names.

Sam's weight was heavy on Tim's legs, and the big man twisted strangely to turn and curl against Tim's chest, head tucked beneath Tim's chin. Tim brought his tingling arms up around Sam and held him lightly.

"Oh, Sam, my Sam, you're everything to me. My whole world," Tim whispered, tears in his eyes.

"I've never felt so precious to someone, baby. You..." Tears choked Sam's words off. "I love you, Tim," he said finally, burying his face more completely against Tim's chest. This was it. Everything Sam wanted, distilled to one short instant. He closed his eyes and tried to memorize it.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Sam went and got Jethro, Tim's dog, from the kennel on Monday while Tim was at work. He was thankful the dog seemed to remember him, and they went for a long walk, allowing Sam to explore the neighborhood. Sam found himself again enjoying the dynamic, vital feel of the city, and a quiet excitement grew in him as it began to settle into his mind that he had actually been granted another desire he'd had for as long as he could remember: a home. This area, these streets, the smells, the traffic... It was all part of having a normal, stable life and home. He sank onto a bench in a park near a playground. Jethro lay down at his feet, and Sam absently reached down to scratch and pet the dog. The activity seemed to anchor him, making the moment more real. He stared around in wonder and had to swallow hard several times as emotion rose and subsided in him. He wanted to share it with Tim, so he took a picture of Jethro and himself on the bench and sent it with a text message:

S-Your boys, loving the neighborhood-

That done, Sam finally rose and continued his walk. His phone buzzed with a response just as he turned back up the street the apartment was on.

T-Aw. I cant wait to get home...-

Back at the apartment, he sorted his clothes and books carefully where they had been quickly tucked into place the night he moved in. He admired the clever hidden panel in the closet and added a few hooks and a small shelf within the compartment, organizing the ammunition, oddments and ingredients he had brought along. Looking through what he had, he made a mental list of a few more things which could be helpful in the more common hunting situations. He felt a bit bare having only this small assortment of supplies to hand, but he tried to reason with himself that he wasn't actively hunting full-time anymore, so the more obscure items were better served staying with Dean.

Thinking of his brother, Sam sighed and replaced the door, making sure the hidden catch was secure and drawing Tim's sport coats and suit jackets back to conceal it. He pulled his phone out and dialed.

"Yeah?" Dean growled.

"Hi."

"What's up, Sammy? You okay?"

"Yeah, I just... I was thinkin' about you. How's it going? You seen Cas?"

"Na, man, not since...not since that demon witch thing."

"You should talk to him, Dean."

"Don't tell me what to do, dude. I'm on a job, okay?"

"Alone, or..."

"Benny's with me."

"Good. That's...good."

"I'm on the road, man. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay. Bye, Dean."

"Bye."

Frustrated and saddened, Sam spent an hour and a half working out hard, then showered. Looking at his reflection, he contemplated his facial hair. His mouth quirked into a smile at the thought of Tim's reactions to the rough hair. Then his mind wandered to all the men in his life who had had beards: Chuck and Bobby, with the shagginess of "who cares?", kind Pastor Jim with the short goatee, his dad, whose facial hair had come and gone in varying lengths over the years. Rubbing his hand across the scruff, Sam decided he'd just clean up the patchiness and wait to get Tim's opinion. He carefully shaved the ragged edges so the lines of hair were clean, then shrugged and went to get dressed.

With no pressing case, Tim was able to leave work on time and he let Sam know he was bringing dinner. A restaurant Abby had taken him to had a great Cobb salad he was sure Sam would enjoy. His grilled chicken with rice and mixed vegetables rounded out the order and he hurried home.

Tim brought the mail in on his way up to the apartment. Seeing a blank envelope and feeling the hard rectangle inside, he smiled nervously. He hoped Sam would understand what he'd done.

After dinner, Tim handed the card to Sam without preamble.

Sam stared at the credit card, embossed with his name. He knew it was from Tim's account, and his feelings were a jumble. He was adverse to the thought of mooching off Tim. He was thrilled Tim wanted to be linked to him this way. His childhood training of living under the radar with stolen names screamed at him to shred the thing and run. He worried what Dean would say.

"Sam, I know this is big, and I should have talked to you first, but I knew it would upset you, and this is the way it needs to be if we're going forward together. Everything between us has to be on the up and up - "

"I know, it's just...if I still have to hunt when Dean needs me, how can I be this - " he waved the card. " - upstanding citizen, too?"

The adorable boyish smile Sam loved so much emerged from Tim's worried expression. "Secret identity?"

Sam chuckled but his stomach was still in knots. He turned away, looking out the window, his frown returning. Tim came up behind him and encircled his waist with his arms, putting his chin on Sam's shoulder.

"If you wanted, I'd drop everything and live off the grid and become a hunter with you. You're the most important thing in my life, Sam. But that's _not_ what you want, and we both know it. We need to firmly establish your _real_ identity in the _real_ world...with judicious editing. Are you ready for that?"

Sam covered Tim's hands with his own, drawing them closer.

"Out of the shadows?" He sighed. "You're my light, Tim. Always have been. Yeah. Yeah, I'm ready."

Tim closed his eyes and held tight.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

T-caught case. Missing person. May not be home for day or so. Will txt when I can-

Sam had paused in his workout when his phone buzzed. He read the text and nodded, then went back to his push-ups.

By eight that night, Sam suspected Tim was right that he wouldn't be home. He ate dinner alone, read for several hours, then went to bed where he tossed restlessly.

T-having to clean up re-used vhs vid: stone age tech. Miss u-

The text woke Sam at quarter to two in the morning. He blearily responded, not bothering to edit.

S-miss u too. Bed too big & cild w/o u. May invit Jethro up if u dont make it hm tomorrw nite. ;-)-

Wednesday Sam took Jethro for his mid-morning hour long walk and his heart jumped when his phone rang with Tim on the I.D.

"Hey, baby," Sam answered.

"Hi, Sam," Tim's voice was rough and he sounded exhausted. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine. Is there anything I can do to help _you_?"

Tim sighed. He was walking to the nearby coffee shop for more fuel for the team and finally had a moment to call. "Probably, but nothing you're _allowed_ to do. It's looking like this is a hate crime case, and it's just..." He sighed again. "I don't know. I'm not gay, _we_ aren't, but I still feel... It feels close. And disturbing. It makes me want to hold you," Tim finished with a whisper.

Sam swallowed hard. "Tim, it's okay. I'm fine, I'm safe. You just keep working and catch the bad guy. Then come home to me."

Tim drew in a deep breath and slowly let it out, feeling better for having heard Sam's voice as well as received his assurances. "Okay. Will do. I love you," Tim moved to get in line in the shop.

"I love you, too, baby. Be safe."

They disconnected.

Sam felt his heart pumping fast, an adrenalin surge from his concern for Tim. He wanted to run all the way to the Navy Yard and throw himself bodily between Tim and any possible danger. In his mind he understood that Tim was as safe as he could be with the job he had, but his heart's every beat pounded a protective rhythm. He ducked into an alley and slid Jethro's leash up around his wrist, then dropped in a relatively clean spot and started doing push-ups, attempting to bleed off some of the stress hormones flooding his system. He kept going until his shoulders began to ache, then he rose.

"You up for a run, Jeth?" He asked the dog. Jethro wagged, and Sam figured he'd try a short run and watch for any discomfort in the dog. They headed for the park and made a couple of circuits around it before Sam started to feel calmer. Jethro had seemed to enjoy the run, but was obviously happy to rest when it was over. Sam found the water fountain and ran it for Jethro before drinking some himself. Then he found some shade and the two settled down. Sam still felt restless and did sit-ups for a while. He wondered how big he was likely to get if Tim had a lot of dangerous cases and shrugged mentally. Tim seemed to like him fit.

"You know exercise can be an addiction, right?"

Sam looked up at the comment. Krista, his former lover and the tattoo artist who had done Tim's anti-possession tattoo, stood looking down at him. He sat up.

"Hey, Kris," he greeted.

"You blazed past my shop, dude, I went looking for the fire!" She folded her long legs beneath her as she sank down next to him. He realized that he hadn't really been seeing where he was going when he'd run, he'd been too wrapped up in his concern for Tim. He must have sprinted past her shop without noticing.

"Sorry," he shrugged.

"You okay?" She asked. Real concern was visible even through her wild makeup and even wilder, rainbow-hued hair. He could still see the skinny, lank-haired girl he'd snuck off to make out with at age 15, then had groping, gasping sex that was over way too fast with at 16. He thought he might have hooked up with her again when he didn't have his soul, but he wasn't sure and certainly wasn't going to ask. Whatever else they'd been, through the years they'd been friends, and her reaction when he'd brought Tim in to get his tattoo had been supportive when she discovered what the relationship was between the two men, even though Sam had been uncomfortable and less than forthright. He felt he could talk to her.

"It's Tim. His job can be dangerous," Sam said. She gave a half-smile

"You're okay with danger for you but not for him."

Sam shrugged uncomfortably. She had nailed it in one.

"Is he your first guy?"

Krista had always been blunt. "First and only. For keeps. I moved in."

Her eyebrows disappeared behind her neon pink and purple bangs. "You quit hunting? Wow."

"Let's say I've gone part-time. I'll help Dean if he needs me."

"Of course. But... Going legit? Crazy."

"You run a shop."

"You know that's a front. Tats aren't the only mojo I deal in."

Sam shrugged. His mind was on Tim.

"Look, I've dated guys who were overprotective. Guys who knew how good I am with knives, who'd seen me go head on with vamps and shifters. It felt like...they didn't really know me, or didn't trust or believe in me, or something. It sucked, Sam. Don't do it."

Sam frowned and nodded. "I have to find a way to deal with it. I just...I have no idea how."

"Can he take care of himself? I didn't get a good read on him."

"Yeah," he admitted. "Yeah, he can. He's an NCIS agent, major crimes unit, has been for ten years."

"A _Navy_ cop? Hmm. Didn't seem like the type. Less 'oo-rah', more...desk monkey." Sam bristled at what he perceived as criticism. "Hey, he looks like he never sees the _sun_, you gotta admit that."

Sam's memory supplied him with plenty of evidence of Tim's smooth, pale skin, and he blushed. "His name's McGee, what do you expect of Irish ancestry," he deflected.

"Well, look, babe, if he's a good cop, there's nothing you can do but be supportive. Don't make him worry about _you_ worrying, y'know? You've gotta find something to _do_. Not just working out, either, or you'll end up all veiny and - ick," Krista tossed her long hair over her shoulder and sat back. "Let's see. You could Bobby, but Garth's doing some of that, too." She refered to helping other hunters in a supposrt role. "School. You did, like, pre-law, right? You could finish that; specialize in helping hunters when they get caught. Teach self-defense. You're smart, you could maybe tutor or teach something. Work at a gun store. Work at _my_ shop, if you want. I dunno. What appeals?"

Sam shook his head mutely. He'd been contemplating that exact issue for the last two weeks. He rose and Jethro stood with him.

"Look, you need anything, let me know, okay? I'll be around," Krista said. She climbed to her feet and slapped Sam on the bicep before sauntering off.

Sam walked back to the apartment, trying to get back to some of the joy he'd had mere days before as he watched and listened to the neighborhood. Back inside, he showered and then flopped on the bed with a novel. He read for a couple of hours but could barely recall the plot after he'd finished. He jumped when his phone buzzed.

T-missing guy's body found. :-( I'll be home around 4. Tomorrw prolly switch to murder investgn. Damn-

Sam sighed.

S-I'll be here for you. For anything-

T-thx-

Sam researched nearby restaurants and called in an order. He picked up the well-reviewed soup and rolls and then brought them back, keeping the soup warm on the stove and the rolls in the oven.

When an exhausted Tim arrived shortly after four, Sam took his bag and jacket then wrapped him up in a long hug. Tim gratefully closed his eyes and rested his head on Sam's shoulder, breathing in the scent of him, the living strength and vitality. His stomach rumbled at an additional smell and he raised his head. Sam smiled and inclined his head to the countertop. Tim moaned and hurried to sit down before the steaming bowl. Sam sat beside him and watched as he made quick work of the food, groaning appreciatively when he bit into one of the buttered rolls.

Helping Tim undress and tucking him into bed, Sam found a new aspect to himself as nurturer. He could see the request in Tim's deeply circled eyes and he pulled his clothes off and climbed under the covers. Spooning behind Tim, he held him and felt how quickly Tim relaxed and went to sleep. He lay still, peace settling over and through him, peace he only ever felt with Tim. Knowing the archangel who had brought them together was years dead, Sam still sent out a silent prayer of thanks to Gabriel. The difficulties Sam faced being in a relationship with a man were many, but he would do anything to keep it. Krista was right that he needed to find something to do rather than wait around the apartment for Tim, but the short time he'd lived here was already one of his most precious memories. Dichotomies and contradictions floated through his mind, eventually melting in a light doze.

Tim woke from a dream of struggling to find Sam in a murky, underwater location. Half seen creatures had tried to distract him from his search, and he had become desperate with the sense that time was running out. The heat of Sam pressed against him was reassuring, but Tim's pounding heart transformed his need to find into a need for more intimate contact. He turned in Sam's embrace and woke him with a sensuous kiss.

"Mmm, Tim," Sam sighed as he came to. Tim wrapped his arms around Sam and pulled him close, their bodies finding the familiar fit together, legs twined, chests sealed tight, hips moving to accommodate their growing erections. Sam slid his hand down flat against the small of Tim's back and drew him closer. At the gasp Tim gave, his big hand went lower, palming the curve of Tim's ass and kneading the pliable mound. Moaning around both their tongues in his mouth, Tim moved. As always, his mind whirled, and he wanted to keep trying to help Sam work through his difficulty embracing his preference for bottoming. He rolled Sam onto his stomach and settled between his legs. Kissing and stroking his way down Sam's beautiful back, he applied insistent pressure to the back of his thighs and Sam shifted his weight onto his knees. As Sam spread open before him, Tim bit his lip. Sam didn't understand what a powerful gift his trust in Tim was. Tim suspected Sam was more sensitive in his nether regions than most men with the extreme responses he had and his ability to come with no penis stimulation during anal sex. During Tim's research into gay sex he'd discovered Sam was uncommon, maybe even rare, in his reactions. Tim wanted badly to support Sam in overcoming his 'bottom-shame' and had decided that giving him massive amounts of stimulation and pleasure couldn't hurt that cause. Besides, Tim needed the distraction from the intensity of the case, and his own conflicted feelings of sympathy.

Running his tongue from behind Sam's balls all the way up his crack made them moan in concert. Tim assumed Sam had researched as well, since he was always meticulously clean. There was never any unpleasantness in smell or taste. The taste, in fact, was something Tim found erotic and special because it was totally, uniquely Sam. He spent long minutes licking and tonguing, listening to Sam's soft cries and curses. His own hard-on ached with his need for release, and he finally couldn't stand it any longer. He kissed his way back up to Sam's neck, brushing his long hair out of the way to nibble the area normally protected by the long strands. Sam trembled and Tim moved off of him and reached for the nightstand and the lube. He encouraged Sam to turn over. Their eyes had adjusted to the darkness and they watched each other's expressions, both completely enamored of their partner's visage. Sliding into Sam, Tim then lay heavily on his lover's chest. Breathing shallowly, they stared into each other's eyes until a shudder passed through Tim and he finally began to move. Having no leverage to thrust as they lay that way, they simply undulated together, alternating kissing with staring.

Finally, Tim felt his own need building, and Sam nodded, understanding. They shifted subtly, just enough to allow a bit more movement, and Tim took advantage of it. Their breathing quickened, and Tim watched closely as Sam's eyes fluttered closed and his head moved back and forth. The stray thought that the head shake was sub-conscious denial of his position ran through Tim's mind.

"Look at me, Sam," he ordered. Sam's eyes opened obediently and his head stopped thrashing. Tim kissed him and began moving with ecstatic purpose, struggling to keep his own gaze locked with his lover. Sam's eyes finally rolled back and his neck arced and Tim felt the wet heat between their bodies as Sam climaxed. The tightening of Sam on Tim's body made it easy for him to take two more thrusts and then come himself, eyes closed, head thrown back, Sam's name on his lips.

As Tim rested for several minutes on top of Sam, his exhaustion, barely dulled from the hour or two of sleep he'd gotten, coupling with post-coital lassitude, began to draw him back into slumber. Sam's warm hands gently held him and rolled him to one side. Sam reached over Tim for tissues and cleaned them up efficiently. Tim murmured unintelligibly but with interrogative.

"S'okay, baby. Just peeling us apart before the glue sets," Sam whispered. He kissed Tim's forehead and drew him close again, feeling Tim's breath immediately deepen as he fell back to sleep. Sam contemplated Tim's tenderness, understanding that Tim was trying to help him. His face still flushed with unpleasant feelings when he thought of Dean finding out he was a bottom, but he considered and was surprised to realize how small the number of people was whose opinion he cared about enough to be concerned over. He smiled. It was progress.

Tim woke at five the next morning. He carefully slid from under the arm Sam had draped across his waist. He started coffee, did a brief workout and got into the shower. When he came out of the bathroom, ready to grab his coffee and leave for work, Sam wasn't in bed anymore. He was out in the kitchen finishing fixing breakfast burritos. He wrapped Tim's up and set it beside the travel mug he'd already prepared.

Tim gratefully stepped into Sam's embrace, smiling ruefully as his body responded to Sam, barefoot and shirtless, pajama bottoms slung low on his hips. "Thank you," he whispered and kissed him lingeringly.

"Good luck on the case," Sam replied. Tim nodded, and with one more hug, he patted Jethro and then departed. To the closed door Sam spoke again, softly. "Be safe." Sam ate his own burrito and planned his day.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

A/N Even short reviews really make my day, folks... :-)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Arriving at work, Tim went to autopsy first, determined to get the worst out of the way. He was only a little surprised when he found Ducky was already there.

"Timothy! What can I do for you this fine morning?" The older man asked.

"Morning Ducky. I wanted to read the autopsy report. From the lack of forensic evidence at the site where the body was found, I think this may not be our killer's first time. I'm going to search old reports but I wanted the details from yours so I can narrow my parameters," Tim explained.

"Are you all right, Timothy? Your reaction yesterday made me concerned you might be taking this case...personally."

"Yeah, Ducky, it's personal. He may have been murdered because he's gay. I - I don't consider myself gay, but I am in a relationship with a man, so..."

"It _is_ understandable, my boy. I'm afraid my findings aren't likely to make it any easier, however. Can I get you a cup of tea?"

"No thanks. Why...what, uh, did you discover? What was done to him?"

Ducky sighed. "Have a seat," he indicated the chair beside his desk and Tim sat. "Poor Captain Reynolds had lacerations on his wrists which indicate he was hung by them. Contusions, fractures, and internal bleeding are consistent with a severe and thorough beating, over the course of several hours, likely with a baseball bat."

Tim swallowed hard at the mental image. "Cause of death?"

"Exsanguination. Timothy..." Ducky paused. "He was violently castrated. The knife cut into his leg and partially severed the femoral artery."

A shudder passed through Tim. Looking at the medical examiner he knew Ducky had more information, but he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. Biting his lip, he took a deep breath and tried to get some perspective back. He had to be able to distance himself enough to investigate this crime. He mentally shoved the all too personal thoughts of Sam away and focused himself on the gathering of facts. He filed the information into his mind clinically and gave a short nod.

"Right to left or left to right? Can you tell if he's right- or left-handed?"

"The severed artery was on the right leg, and from the placement of the cut I'd say it was made from the front so he was probably right-handed."

Tim nodded. It was just another fact. "What else?"

"Severe trauma to the rectum. I believe the object he was beaten with was used."

"Raped with a baseball bat?" Tim whispered. At Ducky's curt nod, Tim felt the blood drain from his face and he was grateful for the wastebasket the doctor put before him when his stomach heaved and his breakfast made a reappearance. He sat shaking for several minutes. Ducky brought him a damp paper towel and some water. Wiping his mouth, and surreptitiously his eyes, he sipped the water and finally nodded to Ducky.

"Thanks. Send me the report please?" Tim rose and straightened his shoulders.

"Of course. Timothy...your reaction to this case is perfectly understandable. It is normal that you would sympathize. However, I think you know you need to be able to be objective so that you can work effectively. If you find yourself unable to do so, it would acceptable for you to remove yourself from it. I can explain the psychology of the situation to Jethro - "

"No. No, Ducky. I can be detached. I'm staying on this case. We're gonna find this bastard."

"Very well."

By mid-morning, Tim had found two other cases he thought might be the same murderer. His heart sank when he realized that if he was right, they were after a serial killer who was targeting gay men who were military officers. After he'd sent the autopsy files to Ducky so he could verify the similarities Tim had found, he brought the information with his supposition to Gibbs. The former Marine's eyes flashed in fury and ordered DiNozzo to work from another angle, expanding into missing persons rather than just murder victims. Tony gathered a list from the past five years of male officers who had gone missing in the DC area, and Gibbs assigned Ziva to help with researching their backgrounds. It was difficult to try to find out if any of the possible victims from before the repeal of DADT were gay, but phone calls and several personal interviews finally revealed three names of missing men who were identified as homosexual and thus were possible additional victims. Tim collated the data on all five men and put their pictures on the plasma. He went through the service record of each for the team. When he stopped he looked up from his computer at the unusual silence which followed. Tony was studiously studying his own shoes, Ziva staring hard at the photos on the screen and glancing back to Tim repeatedly. Gibbs stood, inscrutable as usual, but Tim thought he sensed extra tension in the hand that held his ever-present coffee. Tim frowned, then his gaze finally caught on the similarity of the five men's photos. They were all white, in their late twenties or early thirties, with light brown hair and pale skin. Baby-faced, with large, light-colored eyes, full lips... Tim swallowed hard and his face flushed. After a moment, he cleared his throat and continued.

"The dates of when each went missing show a progression. If they're all victims, the killer is attacking more often. Two years ago, one year ago, six months ago, six weeks, three weeks ago, and our current case went missing last week," Tim concluded by putting the photo of the man whose body they'd found the day before with the others onscreen. He had the same look, and Tim clenched his jaw. "As you can see, there are distinct physical similarities among our suspected victims."

"So find _other_ similarities that'll help us get this son of a bitch," Gibbs snapped. He stalked to the stairs and mounted them to go tell Vance. They all knew what a publicity nightmare it would be if the press got wind of a serial killer targeting gay military men. The other three agents rushed to divide research and began working.

Tim started running financials and phone records on all six men with a program he'd written set to flag matching numbers, trends, or transactions. That many checks at once would use all the processing power of his desktop, so he set it to send all matching findings to his phone and stood, announcing he was going to the lab to enlist Abby's help. Tony followed him to the relative privacy of the stairwell which had become Tim's preferred way of getting around as he attempted to keep himself in good shape.

"This is a little close to home. You okay, McGay?" DiNozzo's voice was low, his genuine concern evident. Tim stopped on the landing between floors and gave him a hard look with one eyebrow cocked. Tony spread his hands. "Ya had to know that one was coming," he protested.

"Those men were systematically beaten, raped, and castrated. We're hunting a monster," Tim clarified. "Just help me find him, okay, Tony?" He started down the stairs. "And drop the gay shit, man. I have one exception. One," he said over his shoulder, not realizing his phrasing mimicked Sam's. Tony tilted his head, having noticed just that. He shook his head as he went back to the squad room.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

For Sam the opportunity to establish a routine including cleaning house was a novel one and a good distraction from his concern for Tim. He gathered laundry and put in two loads, taking Jethro for a short run while they cycled. He seemed to enjoy the exercise, though Sam watched him closely to make sure the old dog didn't show any discomfort during or after. Switching the clothes, sheets, and towels to the dryer, Sam returned upstairs and showered. He thought about menus, looked up recipes, and made a list for the grocery store. He brought the warm laundry up and put it all away, having learned when he'd stayed with Tim and done laundry previously that Tim's shirts got hopelessly wrinkled if they weren't hung up immediately. While he heated up the leftover soup for lunch, he decided to text Tim.

S-domestic day. Going to grocery this afternoon. Need anything? Hope case is going well.-

He didn't expect a timely response and was surprised when his phone rang with a call from Tim as he finished eating.

"Hi, baby. How's it going?" Sam greeted.

"Hi, Sam. I got your text. I can't tell you how much I love knowing you're there, at our place," Tim said. His voice sounded strained and Sam frowned.

"Yep. Jethro and I are having a good day," Sam replied. He wanted to ask what was wrong, to help, to make whatever was stressing Tim better, but he knew he was going to have to get used to not being able to know details or do anything but be supportive.

Tim smiled faintly, thinking of Sam sitting in their apartment with Jethro sprawled at his feet. "I'm glad." He swallowed hard. "This case is... Bigger than we thought. And really, _really_ bad," Tim whispered, his voice breaking. Murder as a crime of passion could be brutal and was always disturbing, but predatory premeditation for torture, mutilation and then murder was incomprehensibly horrible. He could see where the investigation was probably headed, and he was scared.

Sam closed his eyes. "I get it. Just... Tell me what you need, Tim. _Anything_."

"If there's anything, I will tell you," Tim said, sighing. "Just, uh, be patient, please. It's gonna be some long hours. Not how I had hoped your first week here would - " A search result alert sounded. "I've gotta go."

"Love you."

"Me too."

As he hung up, Sam recalled the only time he'd gotten himself involved in Tim's job.

~flashback~

_"You cannot do this. I am not Dean. You are not dealing with crazy paranormal crap. You have to let me do my job, Sam!"_

_"I was trying to back you up - "_

_"No! _You _are not my backup. My team is my backup. I am _not _Dean! Don't make those choices, Sam! You have to break that pattern. Don't do that to me ever again," Tim glared, an expression Sam had never had directed at him._

_He hung his head. He'd known he was being dangerously obsessive when he'd convinced Tim to download the 'Find my Friends' app and watched the gps location of his lover's movements on his iphone. Coupling that with listening to police dispatch was a recipe for disaster. When Tim's location matched with a 'shots fired', Sam had rushed there only to get in the middle of a chase and takedown. He was lucky to have been slammed in the face by a door opening in an alley as a perp fled the scene. The bloody nose from the door and mild concussion from the subsequent pratfall that had been the result of his attempted intervention hurt so much less than the disappointment in Tim's eyes that he had instantly regretted his actions._

_Tim had come sprinting around the corner with Ziva, who had vaulted over Sam's prone body and continued pursuit even as Tim had skidded to a horrified stop._

_"Sam?! Oh god!" Falling to his knees beside him, Tim grabbed his face with both hands and held him. "Sam? Oh Sam..."_

_When he admitted how he'd ended up there, Tim had ordered him to stay put and gone to help the team. They had finished the takedown without him and he'd confessed, shamefaced, to Gibbs why he'd been distracted._

_"Never again, McGee! You make sure," Gibbs had given him the look and put his finger right in Tim's face. "Get outta here. Take him home."_

_Just inside his apartment, Tim had slammed the door and turned on Sam. _

_"I am accountable to my agency, and to Gibbs! I let Gibbs down, Sam. You _know _what that means to me," Tim almost moaned at the thought._

_"Tim, I just - I thought - Baby, if anything ever happened - "_

_"It _has_ happened, Sam! I got shot, remember? I was attacked by a dog, dislocated my shoulder, had an eight inch piece of glass sticking outta my side! I'm still here! I'm here because I can count on my team. They need to be able to count on me, too. Damnit, Sam." Tim shook his head and tried to calm himself. "We aren't hunters together. Don't act like we are. Do _not_ treat me like Dean, Sam. I mean it."_

_The repeated references to his brother made Sam bristle at Tim's continuing judgment that the relationship was unhealthy._

_"Stop talking about my brother like that!"_

_"Fine!" Tim snapped. "Then don't treat me like you are the only person in the world who can back me up. Don't act like you think I need you only because I'm an immature alcoholic who loves you but treats you like you're the screw up!"_

_"Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot, Tim!" Sam roared. He stepped close, breathing hard, and looked straight into Tim's eyes. "Talk to me like an equal. Talk to me like you fucking care that I would do anything for you, that I'd rather _die_ than see you get a damn _scratch_." His voice dropped. "Talk to me like you understand why I did it, like you'd do the same, like you respect and love me even though I screwed up..." His words ended choking on a sob. The agony and fear in his eyes was heart-wrenching._

_Tim grabbed him hard on the back of the neck and kissed him. Sam returned the kiss with ferocity, and in moments they were tearing each other's clothes off._

_When they lay tangled together, panting, Tim slowly raised his head. "I love you, Sam. But you just can't do that. You can't."_

_Sam shook the sweat damp hair out of his eyes and watched Tim smile faintly. "I know. I get it. I'm sorry, baby. I know."_

~end flashback~

The fight had precipitated fantastic make-up sex, and Sam had vowed to let Tim's work be out of his sphere of control unless Tim specifically asked for his help. He hadn't, so Sam went back to focusing on his own actions, trying not to see every possible horrible thing that might happen to Tim in his imagination.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

The investigation progressed. The only solid commonality of the victims was shown to be a few gay bars in an area of DC known for tolerance. Gibbs sent Tony and Ziva to interview and collect surveillance recordings if there were any. A look shared between Gibbs and Tim acknowledged what Tim suspected would happen. He was being kept in reserve, unseen, so that if they had to send someone in undercover, it would be him. He looked remarkably similar to the victims, and would be the obvious choice, perceived sexual orientation aside. He sensed that Gibbs wasn't happy with the prospect but he mentally began to prepare himself for the eventuality. The need to find this murderer felt like a clawing heat in his belly: Tim resolved that he'd do whatever it took to get him.

That night when they made love, there was a desperate edge, and Tim clung to Sam afterward. Although he chose not to reveal any details of the case, Sam knew that was what was bothering him and tried determinedly to be calm for Tim's sake. His own fear opened up like a yawning bottomless pit when he allowed himself to consider the horrors Tim was hiding, so he doggedly avoided those thoughts. Tim slept restlessly, and woke thankful he couldn't recall his dreams. Their eyes and the tight hug they shared before Tim left for work conceded each to the other that he understood how much they were both leaving unsaid and why.

Sam let himself work out hard that day. He considered trying to find a gym or training center nearby to get even more of his emotional turmoil out, but he realized he could end up hurting someone if he really cut loose, so he kept to his normal routine, doubling his reps, and left Jethro at the apartment while he went for a punishing, marathon-length run. He returned and showered then took Jethro for a walk. The few brief texts he got from Tim didn't stem his worry at all, but his responses remained confident and encouraging even while his chest constricted with his worry.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

The two tentative leads the team had from a day and a half of work dropped into dead ends. Tim steeled himself and approached Gibbs' desk. The team leader looked up and his jaw clenched as he nodded curtly, once. Tim closed his eyes briefly.

"I'm gonna need to know more about the vics. Tops or bottoms, if they were drunk, did they regularly go home with strangers..."

"We'll get everything we can. You won't go in blind," Gibbs replied.

"How do we do this?" Tim asked.

"Do what?" DiNozzo piped up. He came over to stand beside Tim.

"We need bait to draw him out," Tim said quietly. He felt like the air conditioning was blowing full blast down his shoulders and back with his nervousness.

"You? Undercover? Come on, you can't lie about a surprise party, how are you gonna lie about your whole life?" DiNozzo's words sounded critical but his tone held concern.

"I don't have to lie much for this, Tony."

A heavy silence fell among the three men. Tim felt a hot blush in his face compete with the chill across his back. His eyes were downcast, but when they flickered up and met the bright blue of his boss' stare, he was shocked at the concern and compassion he read there. He glanced at Tony just as the senior-most agent turned away at Ziva's return.

"Have we had a breakthrough?" She asked. She set the tray of coffee she'd brought for everyone down on her desk and turned to face them.

"They wanna send McGee undercover as a gay officer to bait this psycho!" DiNozzo said loudly. Tim sighed. The entire floor stilled for a moment at the exclamation.

"Gee, thanks, Tony," Tim muttered.

"I just mean that's crazy, right? We have no idea how this wacko finds his vics, so it'll be totally immersive deep cover. How in the hell can you expect to pull that off?" DiNozzo demanded.

Tim paused, sensing Gibbs was letting him answer, possibly even testing him.

"If I just transferred in, a computer specialist, with a new apartment, looking for new..._friends_ in bars when I'm not at work..." he supplied. "I don't have to be anyone but myself, more or less."

"But this crazy, right?" Tony looked to Ziva for support.

"McGee is an experienced and skilled agent. We will have your back, McGee," Ziva said, directing her words at Tim.

"Thanks, Ziva. I know you will."

Gibbs nodded again and picked up the phone to arrange for the job position and apartment the op would need. Half an hour later, Gibbs caught Tim's eye and jerked his head toward the elevator. They entered it together silently, and Gibbs stopped it between floors. They looked at each other in the pale emergency lighting. Tim again saw a surprising amount of concern in Gibbs' hard stare. He began to wonder if his boss doubted his ability to accomplish a successful cover.

"I can call Agent Callen in LA." He shrugged. "He looks close enough, and he's experienced undercover. He can do it," he offered.

Tim shook his head. As frightened as he was, he was unwilling to pass on the chance to catch this monster quickly or risk him taking another victim while Callen was brought up to speed. "No. I got this, Boss," he replied. The worry he sensed in the normally unflappable Gibbs made his gut clench. "You believe in me, don't you? I can pull this off...right?"

The hardness left Gibbs' face. "I know you can do it. Just...be careful," he said softly. Tim nodded, reassured. He was beginning to truly understand how much Gibbs cared for the people on his team, for Tim.

Gibbs held his gaze for another long moment, then turned and hit the switch. He sent Tim home early with instructions on how to prepare for the assignment.

Tim worried on his way home how to tell Sam.

"You're not gonna like it," Tim said after he'd sat them down on the couch. Sam's jaw clenched, his lips compressed, and he took a deep breath. Tim had arrived back at the apartment unexpectedly early, looking pale and tense.

"Tell me."

"I'm going undercover as a gay Navy officer."

Sam's head was shaking negative. "Why you? Because of _me_?" Guilt and self-recrimination rolled off Sam in almost palpable waves.

"It's not just us. The victims... They look like me. I _need_ to do this. I need to catch this guy. He's...he's one of those humans who's worse than a monster. The things he's done...and just because they love other men and serve their country... Sam, it's _so wrong_, for so many reasons. I can stop it. I _have_ to."

Sam stopped shaking his head 'no' and started nodding. Tim warmed with relief at the subconscious gesture.

"Just promise you'll be careful," Sam whispered. Tim nodded, then leaned in for a kiss. They made love passionately, wrapped close and with intimate eye contact through it all.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Tim was asleep when Sam left the apartment and headed to another suburb. He went silently through the unlocked front door and down the basement steps. Gibbs looked up, unsurprised.

"Sam," he greeted. He dumped hardware from a jar and offered his bottle. "Drink?"

"Sure."

Sam sipped the bourbon and nodded appreciation. Gibbs waited. Sam let his eyes wander around the room, taking in the project Gibbs was working on, the hand tools, the peaceful atmosphere.

"How do you know this isn't _my_ kind of case?" Sam finally asked. If there was any evidence of blood magic or demons, Gibbs would have seen it and Sam would be able to help.

"I don't. If it is, I'll call you in."

Sam nodded again. He was still frowning, thoughtful. He was disappointed but unsurprised. Tim was knowledgeable about supernatural things, too, and he hadn't mentioned anything.

"Is Tim ready for this, Jethro?"

"Would I send him in if he wasn't?"

"I know what Tim would say, but there are only two people I trust implicitly."

Gibbs cocked his head and gave Sam a hard look. Sam waited.

"Then you just answered your own question. _Trust Tim_."

Sam considered and realized he was right and that the problem he had was with himself.

"I can risk my life, my brother's, but knowing Tim is at risk..." He shook his head.

Gibbs contemplated that.

"Why are you a hunter?"

"To help people. To let them keep on living their sheltered, normal lives."

Gibbs tilted his head and his mouth quirked. Sam was beginning to understand what Tim meant about Gibbs' communicating via kinesthetics. The look told him Gibbs did what he did for the same reasons, and so did Tim.

Sam finished his drink. "Thanks, Jethro," he said. Gibbs nodded. Sam glanced around the room. "This is a great project. I'd love to help you work on it sometime."

~~~SPNCIS~~~

The next morning, Sam made breakfast. He helped Tim shave his hair into a regulation cut, barely more than a high and tight. Gibbs was picking Tim up at 11:00 to get his clothes and alias in order. At 10:30, they sat together on the sofa, and Sam pulled Tim close, leaning back. Tim settled comfortably, listening to Sam's steady, slow heartbeat; he was glad their positions weren't reversed since Sam would've heard how hard Tim's heart was pounding.

"There's a lot we don't say to each other, because we know one another so well," Sam began. Tim nodded. "I want to state some things aloud that you already know."

"Okay." Tim's voice was soft and he was trying to hold as still as possible; if he didn't, he was afraid he'd start trembling.

"You are one of only two people in the world that I trust completely, Tim. I have absolute faith in you," Sam ran his hands up and down Tim's back. "Anything you have to do on this job, baby, just do it, don't worry at all about what I'll think. Afterward, you can tell me - or not - both are totally fine. I know this would be easier if you were actually gay, but... Use what you know however you need to. I don't care what you have to do on this in order to catch the son of a bitch, I just want you to come back. Preferably in one piece, but I will take you any way I can have you." Sam hugged him tightly, then relaxed. "The other thing is this: I believe in you. _You can do this_. You are smart and capable and well trained. _You will be fine_."

Tim held tight, blinking tears away.

"A final thing for you to remember: You need me? I will be there. I don't give a fuck about legality. Call me, and I'm there, no matter what."

Tim gave a shaky laugh. "I know. I believe you." He raised his head to look at Sam. "I believe all of it. I love you, Sam."

"I love you, Tim. Always."

~~~SPNCIS~~~

A/N I'm much more confident writing the interpersonal stuff than cases, so I'd love to hear what you think. I realized that I needed a scene of Sam getting involved in Tim's work and getting in the way before the undercover bit, but I'd have had to extend an already published, long chapter 2 to get it placed right. How was the flashback? I've never written one before. Thanks for all the views... Drop me a line or a review if you like what you're reading.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Abby showed up with pizza the evening of the third day after Tim left. Sam was receiving daily updates from Gibbs, which so far had been consistent two word phrases. "Nothing yet." "He's fine." Waiting was already making Sam crazy. His body ached from working out and the apartment was spotless. Abby hugged him and invited herself in for dinner, kneeling to hug Jethro then popping back up to help herself to plates. They sat at the counter and ate the pizza along with a salad Sam quickly put together.

"I don't have any news, but I want to get to know you better. Tim's one of my best friends. Did you know we dated? A long time ago, when he was still at Norfolk."

"I spent a summer with him in California, at Stanford, before he started at Norfolk," Sam offered. "Not - _together_ - like we are now, but as friends. It's one of my fondest memories."

Abby cocked her head. "Really? You've known each other longer than I've known him? That's _crazy_! He never talked about you."

"I think... We were each other's secret. A private memory only we knew about. Arizona in the mid-nineties, a boy scout camp in 89 or 90... We didn't have a lot of time together, but each one was really, uh, memorable," Sam said quietly, his mind awash in images of Tim at 12, 15, 22... Then standing at the trail overlook, beautiful and strong and confident... _His_ Tim.

"Oh my gosh, I had no idea! Sam, how did it happen? How did you two fall in love? Timmy says you're his only exception, but, that's weird, right? I mean, did you have to work to get him to try it? How long have you known you were gay?"

Sam coughed, choking on his salad. He'd been contemplating the idea that eventually, it might no longer matter to either of them if people assumed they were gay. A lifetime in a relationship exclusively with a man would make their own clinging to the internal truth of their hetero natures moot, but neither of them was there yet. "I'm like Tim, Abby. One exception."

"I don't understand how that could happen, then, unless you're both in denial about being bi - and Sam, I'm just trying to understand. I don't want Timmy to get hurt. I'm not judging you or anything."

Sam inclined his head. "I know. I'm glad Tim has such good friends. Ziva told me I'd suffer like I couldn't imagine if I hurt him, and DiNozzo always looks ready to throw himself as a human shield in front of Tim. Gibbs is the only one who seems to accept us without question."

"I'm a scientist. _Tell me how this happened_."

Sam took a deep breath. It was time for reality with 'judicious editing' as Tim had phrased it. He wouldn't be able to tell her that the archangel Gabriel had orchestrated the meetings between them, and had had cupid mark them for one another, ensuring they would fall in love. "We met as kids and it was an instant bond. We both felt like outsiders, like we were never going to fit in. And then when we met up three more times, without planning, it was like - _fate_ - wanted us to be part of each other's lives. I think Tim... Had some feelings for me, at Stanford. I found out he had, uh, dreams. But he never - we never - did anything. He was still so awkward and unsure. I wondered if we'd missed out on all those years, if we could have... But he argues that the time wasn't right; he wasn't ready, we wouldn't have been able to make it work then. He's right, of course. Then, in Colorado... Has he told you any of this?"

"Just that there was a storm and an accident and you two climbed out together and then he couldn't stop thinking about you," Abby supplied.

Sam smiled. "He carried me off that mountain, Abby." Her eyes widened. "His pack washed away, I sprained my ankle so bad it wouldn't support my weight... He was _incredible_. Took us _days_ to get out. And the whole time, we were wrapped up in each other. We had to sleep huddled close for warmth, our arms were around each other all day with him supporting me... After we got back, it was like... Like we'd become part of each other. I missed him, _so much_. I dreamed of him, music reminded me of him, I felt lonely and alone every morning waking up without him. I thought maybe he'd helped me see I liked men, too, so I started checking guys out. The only ones who caught my eye looked like him, but when I saw it wasn't Tim, any attraction died. It's just..._him_," Sam finished helplessly. "So we met up, and he said I had, like, kissed his hair and reassured him in my sleep on our last night together. It all just clicked then. I was _in love_ with him. I _wanted_ him. It made me think I always had... We finally just, we uh, kissed and...that's all she wrote. Fate sealed, heart forever attached: I belong to Tim, for good or not, always."

Abby's eyes were huge and filled with tears, the food forgotten. Suddenly, she threw herself at Sam and hugged him, nearly knocking their stools over.

"I'm so glad he has you!" Abby cried.

"Thanks, Abby. Thanks," Sam said. It felt good to hold a woman, but breasts pressing into his chest felt foreign, as well. And holding anyone made him miss Tim even more.

Finishing their dinner, the two spent the evening swapping stories about Tim. When Abby left, Sam was able to get to sleep without tossing restlessly and waking when he reached and found the bed empty. He felt closer to Tim from talking and hearing about him, and that sense brought him enough peace to rest.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Tim had been gone a week when a knock at the front door brought Sam out of the reverie he'd slipped into while he cleaned his gun. It was spread over the counter, and his initial reaction was to get his backup weapon before answering. He shook his head and tried to behave more normally, going to answer the door _without_ a firearm. His mouth opened in surprise at the dark-haired young woman on the threshold.

"Sarah!" Sam exclaimed, recognizing Tim's little sister from photographs. She frowned and glared up at him. "Um, hi, I'm Sam Winchester. I'm a...friend of Tim's. His, uh, roommate, actually. Come in, please," he stepped back and she entered, still eying him suspiciously. She stopped when she saw the gun spread out on a towel.

"Who are you?" She demanded. Sam closed the door and took a deep breath. Tim had intended to tell Sarah soon after Sam had moved in, but the plan had been curtailed by his assignment.

"It's okay, Sarah. I'm a Private Investigator," Sam said. It was true; Tim had gotten him licensed in Maryland, DC, Delaware, and Virginia. He even had a concealed carry permit for his Taurus Model 92. "Tim's working. Is everything okay?"

Sarah dropped her bag on the couch and sat down next to it. Her eyes scanned the room and then returned to Sam. "Tim didn't tell me about you."

"Yeah, he was getting ready to, but this case came up... Um, we... Aren't _just_ roommates," Sam confessed in a rush of words.

"I'd hope not. This place is too small for two people who aren't sharing a bed. But where's your stuff?" Sarah seemed to take the situation in stride and Sam's eyes widened again in surprise.

"I have, uh, moved around a lot. I haven't put down roots really, until now."

Her eyes narrowed. "Arizona. You were the secret friend he went to meet, the one who split without saying good-bye."

Sam swallowed hard. "I didn't think he told anyone about that."

"I read his diary when he left for college," she shrugged. At his frown, she rolled her eyes. "I was nine and I missed my big brother. I hung out in his room, and I went through his stuff."

Jethro approached Sarah and she absently scratched his head. Sam nodded to himself. She was distracted and a bit jumpy.

"So, what's wrong?" Sam leaned next to the dart board, in front of the door to the bedroom.

She looked up, startled, then suspicious again. "I came to visit my brother."

"You came here for help," Sam shook his head, correcting her. "I know the look."

"Yeah, you _help_ people. As a _PI_."

Sam sighed inwardly at her snarky tone. That was exactly the reaction he had cynically expected when Tim had told him about the licenses he'd acquired. Many people saw PI's as one step above ambulance-chasing lawyers.

"I do. Alot. I have a very... Diverse skill set. What do you need?"

Sarah's eyes narrowed and she searched Sam's face, gaze raking his heavily muscled frame before she looked away with an unconscious shake of her head.

"Okay. It's something you came to Tim about, so either it's related to the military or his job," Sam saw no reaction. "Or you think his expertise in computers will help." She blinked. "I'm actually a pretty skilled hacker myself, and Tim has shared a bunch of the programs he's written with me. Will you let me try?" She just petted Jethro, who glanced over at Sam when he sighed. "If you thought you could handle it yourself, you wouldn't be here. You aren't helpless or dumb, so it's gotta be serious. Just tell me you're not as stubborn as Tim can be. Even he asks for help when he needs it, Sarah." He frowned at her continued silence. "Anything you have to tell me is okay. I've seen things, done things you wouldn't believe. Is it a guy? Tim says that you're very...passionate."

"He didn't say that," she muttered.

"Not in those words. I'm being diplomatic," Sam waited. "A guy, then. Did he hack your accounts or online identity? Why come to Tim?"

"He's..." She huffed a breath out. "He's a cop. A detective. We went out for a while until I learned about his...tastes," her mouth twisted. Sam raised his eyebrows inquisitively. "I spent a weekend tied up in his basement with him saying how he was taking it easy on me. There's nothing easy about subbing without a safe word!" Sam's jaw clenched and he nodded agreement. "What he did... That isn't how it's supposed to be. Even I know that. He's not a Dom, he's a fucking _sadist_. I may have a few scars, damnit. I ended up telling him what he wanted to hear just so he'd let me go, then I called and broke up with him. I told him that if he ever tried to contact me again, I'd go to the police." She shook her head, a bitter expression on her face. "Not my finest moment, threatening a cop with that, but I was pissed! He started stalking me. I filed for a restraining order, but when he violated it and I reported it, the order had vanished. I did it _again_: same thing. So he's got someone who makes stuff like that disappear. He's not a computer guy himself, so it's someone else. I...I don't know what to do. I _really_ don't want to end up back in that basement. I _hate_ being scared! I feel so powerless. I thought Tim... I don't know. I want my big brother to make it all better."

Sarah had curled in on herself and sat in a ball, hugging her knees. Sam wanted to just find the guy and beat the hell out of him, but he knew that wasn't good enough. The restraining orders being deleted was indicative of a bigger problem. With how smoothly it seemed he had done this, it wasn't his first time. He could hear Dean's voice in his head, lamenting dealing with humans instead of monsters. Humans were so much worse. Sam had to agree.

He went to Tim's gaming computer and started it up on the partitioned drive Tim had told him existed. When Tim had done all the hacking to clean up Sam and Dean's records, he'd created a way to access the web that any hacker would be shocked by. If they could see it, which they couldn't. It was a virtually untraceable ghost access point.

"Which police department did you get the restraining order from?"

Sarah, as curious by nature as Tim, had quietly come up behind Sam while he began working. She told him where and when, which officers she'd talked to, exactly what had happened. And the same details, from a different precinct, for the second time. Sam hacked in and sniffed and searched. A few minutes later, he nodded, made some corrections to the files he'd found, set a watchdog program to notify him of any further changes, then backed out and shut the computer down.

"The restraining orders didn't vanish. Details were changed so that the standard search the dispatcher uses wouldn't come up with the orders, and they were buried. I reactivated them and I'll be able to tell if anyone changes them again," Sam told her. Sarah nodded. "But that's just the start. The detective has to be stopped, and his tech person, too."

"You don't _look_ like a computer geek," she said. Sam smiled; figuring it was the closest that she would come to an apology for being suspicious of him or a thank you. At least for now. "I would never have thought you were gay, either."

Sam closed his eyes. He wondered if he'd ever get used to that. "I'm not gay, Sarah. It's just Tim."

"Do you identify as bi, then?" She sounded merely curious, so he answered truthfully.

He shook his head. "Tim is the one and only man I am attracted to."

She looked thoughtful. "That's the way Tim is, too, isn't it?"

Sam nodded, surprised she'd made that leap.

"Then it's either a phase or something really special," she studied his reaction to that and he gave her a level stare. He didn't want to make a scene about himself and Tim, he hoped to show her how deadly serious they were. Not saying anything else on the subject, she nodded and went back to the couch.

"I've got an idea. I'm gonna make a call. You okay on your own?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sarah said. She pulled her smart phone out of her bag as Sam started for the door.

"Um, Sarah, Tim would want you to file a report. Press charges: assault, maybe kidnapping..." Sam had realized he was going at this like a hunter rather than a cop. She looked up at him, her expression hesitant. "It's just... I get the impression you want this guy to pay. To leave you alone, maybe even not be able to hurt anyone else."

She hesitated. "You're not, like, a hit man or anything?"

"I won't kill him. I won't even maim him. Probably."

"Then... Yeah. You have the right impression."

"Okay." Sam went out the door and down the hall to make his phone call.

Catching the man wasn't difficult, considering he wasn't hiding. Sam took particular pleasure in letting him put up a fight so Sam had the excuse to beat the crap out of him, then he drugged him. Avoiding city cameras and getting him to the back entrance of Krista's shop was only a little tougher.

She had her tattoo room prepped with arcane additions when Sam carried the unconscious detective in and dumped him on the chair.

"Hmm, so this is your sadistic fuck, huh?" Krista grabbed the detective's thinning hair and yanked his head up to see his face. "Looks all normal and shit. I hate that. Okay, so you want a sigil that'll keep him from sadism, huh? Do you think he's a masochist, too? I was thinking pain as aversion therapy but not if he'd get off on it."

"What about static electricity? Everyone hates that," Sam suggested. Krista's eyebrows rose, disappearing behind her wild bangs.

"Damn, boy, you suck at this," she shook her head. He pursed his lips and glared. "C'mon: annoying little zaps? So-fucking-what?"

"So he wouldn't be able to use computers, cell phones, any electronics would eventually fry, even a watch. How would a caveman fair in the tech age?" Sam said. "Besides, if you're as good as I think you are, I bet you can tie it into his sadism. The worse he thinks about, the worse the shocks. Bastard might even kill himself. That, or he changes. Take it low level if he quits that shit."

"Just lower it? Why not stop?"

"Punishment for past actions."

"Hmm. Ruin his career, since he can't be a cop and not use computers, cause him continual annoyance and pain... Okay, you're smarter than you look, Sammy. You think he'll go to his tech buddy for help? He might even fry the dude's equipment."

"Doesn't matter. I'll get him. When I find out who he is, he's going on the pedophile and felon databases. I'll flag him as a hacker, too."

Krista laughed. "Okay, okay, I take it back. Now let me get my shit ready."

An hour and a half later, Sam quietly dumped the now magically tattooed detective in an alley. He returned to Tim's apartment and crashed on the sofa. When Sarah got up the next morning, he told her it was taken care of, and that it would be better if she didn't ask what that meant precisely. Seeing the scrapes and redness of Sam's knuckles, she merely nodded.

The hug she gave Sam when she left was worth more than any words of thanks that went unsaid.

"Do you have family, Sam?" She asked as he walked her to the door.

"My older brother, Dean."

"How are Tim and Dean?"

"It's - tense. Dean... He mostly raised me, and Tim thinks we're co-dependently close. Or we were. And Dean just doesn't get that I love Tim," Sam shrugged, trying to articulate the complexities and giving up.

"Keep trying. Tim and I aren't all that close, but...we're good. It helps, knowing he's there for me."

Sam nodded. Dean would always be there for him, too.

"Welcome to the family, Sam," Sarah said, squeezing his arm. She opened the door to go.

"Thanks, Sarah. Be safe."

It only took another few hours on Tim's super-hacking computer using all the programs Tim had written or pirated from criminal investigations to find the man who had buried Sarah's restraining orders. Sam did as he'd told Krista he would, placing the man's name on the national databases for felons and pedophiles. He also added him to a list the FBI had of hackers. For good measure he faked a warrant for drug trafficking. Sam smiled thinking he might even receive a body cavity search for that one.

The three days of distraction had been helpful, but the wait to hear from Tim settled back over Sam like a heavy coat in high summer. He returned to hard workouts, long runs, and reading every book in Tim's apartment.

Sarah's advice kept coming back to him, and he finally decided to call Dean again.

"Sammy. What's up, man?" Dean answered the second ring.

"Hi. I just wanted to say hey."

"Uh, okay. How's, uh, how's Tim?"

Sam blinked. It was the first time Dean had unbent so far as to mention Tim.

"Thanks for asking. He's away. Undercover. It's pretty nerve wracking."

Dean grunted.

"You on a case?" Sam changed the subject, not wanting to push his brother.

"Just finished. Ghost possession. Nasty bitch."

"With Benny? How's that working out?"

"Guy ain't much for research. Kevin's kinda steppin' in on that. He's laying low here and he has nerdgasms over the books, dude, just like you and - _Tim_. But, uh, Benny's good. Always has my back in a fight. Always."

Sam felt the barb in the words. He knew Dean felt Sam had let him down more than once. He chose to ignore it in favor of trying to broach an even more sensitive topic.

"Don't get pissy and hang up, okay? But...have you talked to Cas?" Sam asked. Silence.

Dean sighed. "Yeah, I finally did. Last week."

"...And?"

"I don't know. How the hell did I miss it? I didn't know he felt..._that_ way. He's my best friend, but I'm not... Dude, _no way_. I'm not gay. I know you say you aren't either, but... Uh-uh. Ain't happenin'."

"I get that, Dean, it's just - he cares about you, so don't be mean, okay?"

"_Mean_? When am I mean?"

Sam cleared his throat and let the silence between them lengthen awkwardly.

"Fine. I won't be mean," he huffed then took a long breath. "I just want things to go back the way they were, Sammy," there was a plaintive note to Dean's voice that made Sam ache to hear but also strangely reassured him.

"Dean... What really happened?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." The automatic response was nearly instant.

"We're already talking about it. Just tell me."

There was silence on the other end for a while. Then Dean growled out a curse and began talking. "He fuckin' kissed me! He set it up like a bad porno, like he really thought I'd..." Dean paused again. Sam bit his lips to keep from laughing. The image of Cas trying to be the pizza man to Dean as the babysitter was insane and hilarious. The possible destruction of the incredible bond between them, though, was anything but amusing, and that sobered Sam.

"What did he say when you talked to him?"

"Just that he didn't understand. He even...he said he wanted what you have," Dean's voice lowered.

"What, me and Tim? He has to know we're unique. I mean, everything Gabriel did to make it possible..."

"Yeah, well, it apparently looks good to Cas."

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"It just sucks. I miss my best friend, man!"

"What about Benny? He, uh, staying on the wagon?" Sam changed tack, referring to Benny's vaampiric nature.

"Yeah, he buys donated blood packs on the black market. He wants to settle down, too, though. He's taking a break down in Louisiana. Jeez, can't anyone hack the life but me?"

"We gotta move forward. Give Cas some time, then talk to him again about something else. Ease back into being his friend, y'know?"

"I guess."

"I'll try to talk to him."

"Whatever. Look, I got a six pack and a bacon cheeseburger waiting on me along with some Casa Erotica. I'll catch you later."

"Sure, Dean. Take care of yourself."

"Yeah, you too, Sammy."

They both hung up. Sam shook his head and decided to dive right in. He prayed.

"Cas, I know you and Dean are having trouble. Man, it feels like some of this is my fault. I wish Tim were here, he'd help me articulate this, but... Look, Cas, can you come and see me? I talked to Dean, and..."

"Hello, Sam."

Sam turned and found Cas standing in front of Tim's dart board. Jethro looked up from where he lay by Tim's desk. "Hey, Cas." It felt weird to have the angel appear here, like his two worlds were colliding, but he shook it off and approached with his arms out for a hug. Cas sidestepped him and Sam sighed. "How are you doin'?"

"I'm fine. You said you spoke to Dean?"

"Yeah, I just got off the phone with him. He, uh, he told me what happened. I'm sorry it didn't work out the way you wanted."

The expression on Cas' face was so despondent Sam had to look away.

"Cas... Dean still cares about you. Just not - _like that_. I mean... What made you think he'd..."

"I've watched you and Tim."

Sam felt the blood drain from his face then flood back like a fever. "You..._watched_ us?"

"The way you support one another, how there is no struggle for power between you, that every challenge is met with you united in strength and purpose. Together you are mighty in a way you're not as individuals."

Sam swallowed hard. "There's a saying: the whole is greater than the sum of its parts."

"This is true, with you." Sam warmed at the use of the singular for himself and Tim. "But the total surrender of each to the other when you have sex would not work for Dean. I thought if the situation was more familiar, he would be more comfortable."

Sam cringed with the thought that Cas had watched him having sex with Tim, but at least it was just the angel. He'd been on earth for centuries and must have seen plenty. "I'm sorry, Cas, but Dean's not gonna have sex with you." Sam tried to say it gently but Cas looked bereft at the words, his pain writ large on his face and in his eyes. "But Cas, the other part...facing challenges together, supporting each other..._that's_ something you can try for. You're his best friend. I don't think he's ever been closer to anyone."

"He is very close with you."

"But he didn't choose that! I've been his burden, his responsibility; not his chosen partner. He needs _you_ as much as _you_ need _him_."

A spark of hope seemed to enter Cas' expression. Then he slowly shook his head.

"We both need time apart. I'll leave him for a while. I will return to heaven and seek peace with my brethren. I have much to atone for."

Sam knew that in a moment he'd be gone, so he put his hand out. "Cas, don't give up on Dean. And..._please_ don't watch me and Tim having sex. That's totally creepy and wrong, dude."

Cas nodded solemnly and vanished. Sam rubbed his face and sighed. God he missed Tim. He wanted to hug him, wanted to tell him about the conversations and listen to his perspective. He wanted the solid presence of him and to see the complete acceptance in his eyes. He went and dropped heavily into Tim's writing chair, reaching down to scratch Jethro's head. Eventually his mood improved and he took Jethro for a long walk, pensively trying to stay positive thinking about Tim and what he might be doing.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

A/N I know nothing about hacking, police procedure regarding restraining orders, or how any of that really works, so I hope I faked it okay. And I am not trying to bash Dean, I'm writing the whole thing with Sam's and Tim's perceptions. I hope I'm not alienating Dean and Destiel fans, theirs just isn't the story I'm telling. I have a two part sidebar started of what Cas actually did when he tried to seduce Dean but I don't know when/if I'll finish it. Let me know if you're interested, huh?

Big shout out to hostaqueen, Crawcolady, and Leemariejack for your support.

Reviews make my day, folks, and I could use a lift...


	5. Chapter 5

A/N Thanks for those of you who are hanging in there with me!

Chapter 5

A week undercover as Lieutenant Commander Ted McKay had Tim aching to be done and home again with Sam. His gratitude that the other victims hadn't been bed-hopping playboys was overwhelming. No matter what Sam had said, he wasn't sure if he'd have been able to bring himself to kiss another man, let alone do anything else with one. All the victims had disappeared after leaving one of three clubs, apparently alone. They hadn't been remembered as being men who hooked up and left with anyone very often. They talked, flirted, occasionally danced, drank, and usually left on their own.

Working IT in the base headquarters building, restraining himself from upgrading or modifying their systems, Tim was bored. After work, he'd taken to napping before he made the rounds of the clubs and bars the victims had frequented. Gibbs had suggested he be his shy, geeky self as much as possible, since research had shown that the other men were much like him in personality as well as looks. The other suggestion from his boss had been comforting; that he be picky with the men he chose to interact with. He focused on trying to find men who reminded him of Sam in some way, to help himself find any spark of romantic interest he could, and over the course of three or four nights, had made a flirtatious acquaintance with three who each had aspects of Sam, along with being tall and well-built. Paul was a lawyer who loved to run with his german shepherd, Brendan a firefighter with a few scars and several commendations for bravery, and Henry was a Petty Officer who worked at the armory. Tim relaxed and enjoyed talking with each of them, but had to continually recall that their interest was more than friendship. Brendan had given his number after spending two separate evenings chatting, and Tim finally called and confessed to having received a Dear John letter just before his posting here, and that he wasn't ready to see anyone seriously. They agreed to keep in touch and Brendan gave him a standing invitation to dinner whenever he felt like it. What Tim felt was guilt at leading the man on, but he knew he had to behave normally to maintain his cover.

Each night when he left a club, he let his steps drag and walked with overt deliberateness, trying to appear slightly inebriated. He hooded his eyes to hide how he maintained as complete awareness as he could while he hailed a cab to either go to another bar or home, depending on the lateness of the hour. He had yet to see anyone suspicious.

Flopping into bed, Tim pulled a pillow into his arms and sighed, wishing he could be with Sam. Not even being able to call or text left him feeling achingly hollow and he fought a deep melancholy.

When Monday dawned bright and he resigned himself to his second week undercover.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

It had been two weeks since Tim had gone when Sam awoke in the small hours of the morning shouting for him with an urgent sense of horror. He snatched his phone and dialed.

"Yeah, Gibbs," the dry voice sounded after four rings.

"Tim's in trouble, Jethro. Something's gone sideways," Sam spoke rapidly but clearly.

"I'll get back to you," Gibbs replied and hung up. He called DiNozzo. "Where's McGee?"

"He gave up and left the bar three hours ago," Tony replied. He paused. "I'll ping his cell."

Gibbs dressed as he waited.

"The phone is a block from the bar. McGee never made it back to his place," DiNozzo reported, his voice tight and controlled the way it always got when he was exceptionally worried.

"Find him," Gibbs ordered. He hung up and headed out.

Sam drove. He figured if his gut was somehow clairvoyant enough about Tim to wake him, maybe he could find him by following it. He drove randomly, his stomach in knots. He wished he could have asked Gabriel to link their minds somehow. The archangel was the most powerful being Sam had ever known. If anyone could have done something like that, it would have been him. Maybe he should call Jethro again. No, he would be working to find Tim. Better not to be a distraction. He said he'd call. Of course he'd call, as soon as he knew anything. As soon as Tim was safe. He had to be safe. Sam would go mad if he considered any alternative. Safe. Tim. _Safe_.

Sam drove.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

"No! The abomination must die!" The man screamed, raising the knife toward Tim. Shots rang and he danced as he fell, hit from three directions at once. Ziva went to the body, kicking the knife away before she checked for a pulse, while Gibbs and DiNozzo ran to where Tim hung heavily from his wrists.

Gibbs rapidly cut the ropes binding McGee, and DiNozzo lowered him to the concrete floor. Sirens grew louder as the ambulance approached. Gibbs wrapped the shivering, bruised McGee in his jacket, and DiNozzo held him carefully. Gibbs stroked the short hair and murmured reassurances to the semiconscious man.

"It's over, Tim. You're safe," Gibbs told him.

"Sam?" McGee slurred.

"He'll meet us at the hospital."

When the paramedics started working on McGee, Gibbs stepped aside and called Sam.

"Jethro?" Sam answered anxiously.

"We got him. He'll be okay. Bethesda Naval hospital. DiNozzo will meet you at the gate," Gibbs said shortly.

"Twenty minutes," Sam informed him, then hung up and pushed the accelerator. _Alive_. Tim was alive!

Tony only had to wait at the guard shack for a moment before Sam roared up and slowed, headlights off, at the last minute. Hustling around to the passenger side, Tony got in. Sam's knuckles were white on the wheel and his jaw clenched.

"What happened?" Sam growled, heading for the hospital, carefully keeping exactly at the speed limit.

"Probably grabbed him on the way back from the bar. He was..." DiNozzo frowned, recalling his quick look in the window of the building and the sick feeling he'd had seeing Probie strung up naked and bleeding. "Beaten."

"Anything else?" Sam's voice had dropped even lower, and Tony heard his knuckles pop.

"I don't think so."

Sam whirled into the ER drop off and jumped out, leaving the car running. DiNozzo went around to the driver's side and took the car to a parking space before following. He was moved by Sam's devotion, reassured that Tim had someone who truly did care about him.

Sam strode to the desk. "NCIS Special Agent Timothy McGee was just brought in. Where is he?"

The nurse stared up at the looming figure for a moment, then looked at the computer. "They're examining him now. You'll have to wait."

"_No_. I'm his partner. I need to see him _now_."

"I'm sorry, but-"

"Sam," Gibbs came through the doors from inside and stepped close to him, speaking quietly. "Give them a couple of minutes. I rode in the ambulance with him. He's beat up, but he's gonna be fine." Sam's body was shaking with tension, but he gave a single nod and walked over to stand by the door which led from the waiting area into the bustling trauma center, looking anxiously through the glass to try futilely to see Tim. Gibbs stayed beside him, and Tony joined them a minute later, handing Sam his keys.

"You got the bastard?" Sam asked from between clenched teeth.

"Dead," Gibbs replied.

"Good. Did he...?" Sam couldn't say the word rape.

"No."

Sam's breath sighed out and his knees turned to water. He leaned back against the wall. "Is Tim conscious?"

"In and out."

"But you're sure...?"

Gibbs was silent and Sam glanced at him to see the look that told him he wasn't going to repeat himself. Sam nodded jerkily in understanding. "Thanks. But...how in hell did this happen? Who had his back? Weren't they supposed to be monitoring him 24/7?"

"I'm gonna find out," Gibbs growled. Neither seemed to see DiNozzo's face go pale. A young CNA came out, interrupting. "Agent Gibbs?" Gibbs nodded. "They're going to take him up to x-ray in a minute, but the doctor said you can see him before he goes."

The three men started to follow. "He said _you_, Agent Gibbs," she said apologetically. Sam's shoulders squared, but he stayed silent with a glance from Gibbs.

"Sam is family. DiNozzo, wait here," Gibbs said. The CNA nodded and escorted Gibbs and Sam to the examination room. Gibbs nodded Sam inside and posted himself at the door.

Tim's face was purpling spectacularly, one eye swollen shut, lips split & caked with blood. A sheet covered the rest of him, and he appeared to be asleep. Sam approached and gently stroked Tim's hair.

"I'm here, baby. You're safe," Sam whispered. Tim's eye opened.

"Sam," he sighed. Tears filled Sam's eyes in relief. "I - cou'n't call...you. Knock'd me ou'."

"It's okay, Tim. You're safe now."

"You...knew - anyway," Tim said. "Boss said..."

"Yeah. Just hush now. They've gotta check for broken bones and clean you up, but I'm here. I'll be right here."

"Good..." Tim seemed to drift off, reassured. Sam scrubbed his hand over his face.

Sam was Tim's shadow as they moved him around to diagnostic machines and then to a room. He hovered while they cleaned the contusions and abrasions all over Tim's body, paling as the thoroughness of the beating Tim had taken was revealed. The top of Tim's head, the palms of his hands and a few square inches of skin scattered over him were unblemished. When the staff finally left them alone and Tim fell deeply asleep from the painkillers, Sam called Jethro.

"He was _tortured_. How long did that son of a bitch have him?" Sam asked.

"About six hours. How's he doing?"

Tears came then, and Jethro waited while Sam choked and cried quietly then got ahold of himself again.

"Some minor internal bleeding. They're watching it. They'll only do surgery if they have to since the trauma to his whole system is so extensive. Bruised organs, broken ribs, hairline fracture to one cheekbone. God, he was lucky. What...what do I _say_ to him?" Sam's question was anguished.

"Tell him he's safe. It's over. He'll bounce back. It'll take time, but he's strong, Sam."

"Jethro..."

"Call me if you need me. Get some sleep."

"I...I'll try."

Sam sat vigilant for hours. The doctor kept Tim sedated and ran scans every few hours until he was certain the internal bleeding had stopped. He'd recover, slowly. Sam was grateful for whatever Jethro had done to make the staff treat him the way they were. The CNAs brought him drinks, showed him how the chair unfolded into a bed, and reassured him Tim would be okay.

Sam slept sitting up beside the bed and woke when Tim's hand touched his. "Tim? You're awake. _Finally_. Oh, baby..."

The one eye which had previously been able to open was now just a slit from the blood that had filled his eyelid. Tim's face was a barely recognizable grouping of black and blue lumps with butterfly bandages reinforcing the glued cuts across his cheekbone, chin, and forehead.

"Sa'? Wh'happen'd?" Tim mumbled. Swelling had reduced his ability to move his lips.

"Uh, Tony said that he grabbed you when you left the bar. He beat you pretty bad, but they got there and they shot him. You're at Bethesda."

"Team?"

"Fine. They're fine. Are you in pain? The doctor left orders for drugs..."

"Uh-uh. S'ok. Jus'... Stay?"

"_Nothing_ could make me go. You're safe, and I'm here, baby."

"Mmm..." Tim slept. Half an hour later, Sam was had begun to relax and was starting to drift off himself when Tim jerked and cried out.

"Tim! You're safe! I'm here," Sam immediately gasped.

Tim groaned. The movement aggravated every ache and bruise and the shout and deep breath caused stabbing pain in his chest. Sam hit the call button for the nurse and held Tim's hand.

"No fun," Tim said. His breath came in shallow gasps and Sam bit his lip.

"Nightmare?"

"I dunno."

The nurse gave Tim a painkiller and he fell back to sleep. Sam stayed awake for hours, worrying.

So completely engrossed in watching Tim, Sam jumped a little when a voice spoke quietly from inside the doorway.

"Sam?"

He looked up to find DiNozzo there, looking pained and exhausted. Sam frowned when the agent inclined his head to talk out in the hall. Sam shook his head but moved over by the door with him, angling himself so he could see Tim.

"What is it?" Sam asked. Tony glanced at the bed and back to Sam, confident Probie was still unconscious and their talking wouldn't disturb him.

"I looked into why McGee's backup didn't miss him."

Sam clenched his jaw. He knew Tim would forgive whoever it was but Sam wanted to choke the life out of them.

"And?"

"Ziva and I went off shift at midnight. Changeover to the next team was a little weird, but we saw them settled before we left. The - "

"Weird how? What the hell happened?" Sam hissed impatiently.

"It wasn't the team we were expecting. Those guys had gotten called on a case... There may be a dirty bomb somewhere in the tri-state area. The...the substitute team was ordered to check out a possible site since it was near their location. They were assured another team was taking over the surveillance remotely, but that order was routed through a server that... Well, communication errors and a single computer screw-up, and if you hadn't called Gibbs... I'm _so sorry_, Sam. I feel like I should have - "

"No," Sam had listened while keeping his eyes on Tim, but he finally looked at the senior agent. "Tony, don't apologize. You know what Jethro says. Tim's alive. He'll recover. If it was a fuck-up, then there's...there's no one to blame. _You_ found him. Thank you for that, man," he gripped Tony's shoulder hard and then went back to his seat.

"Sam...how did you know?" DiNozzo asked quietly.

Sam shook his head and shrugged. "He's everything to me. I just knew."

Tony moved to stand next to the bed. "Mind if I stay for a bit?"

Sam shrugged again, all of his focus back on Tim, counting his breaths, watching for the tiniest hint of discomfort.

Tony stayed for several hours then finally headed home, awed by the intensity of Sam's unwavering scrutiny of Tim.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Gibbs returned later, bringing a duffle full of clothes for Sam, who was grateful. He'd taken his canine namesake to the kennel as well; he knew recovery would be long and slow. Sam brought him into the hallway to talk while Tim was asleep.

"He only rests when they drug him. When it wears off, he wakes with nightmares he can't remember, but his thrashing hurts, so they give him more drugs," Sam said. Twice more Tim had woken since Tony left. Sam's face was drawn with exhaustion, and he hadn't bathed since the morning before Tim wound up in the hospital.

"What's the doctor say?"

"Not to worry. Tells me to go home and rest. I'm not leaving. Is there, like, a shrink, maybe? I just..."

Jethro patted Sam's shoulder. "Sleep when he sleeps. I'll send someone."

Later that day, Nate Getz, a psychologist formerly attached to the LA office, came by. Tim was awake, the bed inclined so he was almost sitting.

Nate introduced himself. "Dr Cranston wasn't available and I was in town." He shook Sam's hand and sat down in one of the folding chairs.

"I told him I asked Jethro for help," Sam offered. Nate nodded.

"How much do you remember about what happened?" Nate asked Tim. From the corner of his eye, he saw how Sam twitched, wanting to help, maybe even answer for Tim, but Sam settled.

"Nothin', really. The bar was a bust again an' I left aroun' one a.m." Tim's words were muffled as he tried not to move his face for the pain. "I remem'er leaving but tha's it. The hos'ital, here, this room. Sam." His head turned slightly to face Sam.

"And something keeps waking you up violently. Can you recall what?"

"Uh-uh. As soon as I'm conscious, the pain..."

"Right. Look, I know this is very upsetting for you, Sam, but it's not unusual. Tim, your body will heal, and you may get some memory of that night back, or you may not. When you have less pain later on, your dreams may be the key to recall, or they may go away on their own. You are way ahead of many agents since you're in a loving relationship. Sam, you have to take care of yourself or you won't be any help to Tim. Tim, you'll probably have to remind him of that," Nate gave them both a small smile. He gave Sam his card. "I'll come by tomorrow." He looked back and forth between them. "Rest. Both of you."

Sam tried. He slept in fits and snatches, and on the third day of Tim's hospital stay, at Tim's urging, he used the toiletries Jethro had brought him. His beard was filling in and Tim smiled when he touched it, agreeing that the full beard looked good but had to be maintained. Tim was on fewer painkillers and had begun eating the bland, soft foods that were meant to be easiest on his system. Each day and night became a cycle of hours randomly broken up by medical staff and visitors. Nate came by each day. The unrecalled nightmares continued to disrupt Tim's sleep, but Nate was pleased at how upbeat Tim seemed. The room had flowers and balloons everywhere, and Tim could have had visitors all the time if he'd wanted. Sam carefully limited the duration of each the visit by watching Tim closely. As soon as his energy flagged, Sam politely threw anyone present out. His protectiveness was quickly becoming legendary at the NCIS office. Few of Tim's coworkers had met Sam before and while they were generally intimidated by his presence, they all agreed his devotion to Tim was touching. A routine developed with Ziva coming in first thing in the morning, Nate making his daily round mid-day, DiNozzo after work, Gibbs late evening, and Abby flitting in and out several times in each twenty-four hour period, usually in the middle of the night or the small hours of the morning. Ducky dropped in, as did Palmer and Director Vance. It seemed to Sam that everyone else from the entire office had traipsed through at one time or another. It didn't surprise Sam that Tim was well known and liked, but the attention was disconcerting after his own lifetime of hiding. Sam had suggested they call Sarah, but Tim wanted to wait until his face at least was back to normal before his younger sister saw him. Sam used that discussion as a segue to telling Tim what had happened when Sarah had showed up at the apartment while Tim was undercover. He hesitated about telling Tim the solution he'd come up with, but was relieved that he took it in stride.

"I pro'ably would have _shot_ the guy, so your way was better. Thank you for taking care of my little sister, Sam," Tim said, squeezing with the hand Sam held. "I had hoped to let her to know you're part of the family now, that she's got two big brothers, and I think this demonstrated that perfectly."

Sam sighed and smiled in relief. "She's a spitfire, man. So much like Penny."

"Yeah. She can be a real brat, though, so watch out."

~~~SPNCIS~~~

The door opened at 4 a.m. and Sam looked up from reading on his laptop. Abby peeked in, and Sam smiled. Tim caught Sam's reaction and looked over.

"Hey Abs," Tim greeted. The woman hurried in and carefully kissed Tim on the forehead then threw herself into Sam's waiting arms. All the affection she would normally spread between them went to Sam since Tim could still barely be touched without causing him pain. While the swelling had lessened and the least severe of his bruises were beginning to turn greenish, most of the visible ones were still purple.

"I brought more of that calendula salve. Ooo-is that lime jello? Good choice. When are you gonna start solids? They probably won't let you go home until you eat something real. Not that I'm rushing you. You should stay here for as long as you need to," Abby jabbered. Tim and Sam shared a fond glance. "Your eyes are more open! That's good. I love your eyes. Oh! Your eyes are pretty, too, Sam."

She continued that way for several minutes, then left with another big hug for Sam and careful peck for Tim.

"She is something else, isn't she?" Sam said, repeating his usual reaction.

"You get used to it. She's right, though. I think I'll try some eggs this morning. I really want a shower, but..."

"Let's see how your back looks. I can carry you in there if the pressure isn't too painful. Maybe some pain meds before, as well."

Sam did get Tim into the shower. He waited outside the curtain, but quickly stripped and entered to help when Tim asked.

"I can't reach...anywhere," Tim complained. "My shoulders ache, bending hurts, and twisting is out of the question. Even breathing deeply sucks."

"I know. I got it. I'll be gentle, baby," Sam lathered his hands and carefully ran them over Tim. Even with the care he took, Sam winced when Tim groaned. "Sorry." The lumpy mottling covering his body made Sam's gut roil with impotent rage. He wanted so badly to punish the man who had done this to Tim. It seemed unfair that the perpetrator had been granted such a swift end while the torment he'd visited on Tim went on and on.

"It's okay," Tim reassured, then hissed as Sam lathered under his arms. DiNozzo had told him he'd been strung up by his wrists while he'd been beaten, so he understood the pain in his shoulders. Tim tried to distract himself. "Not exactly our normal shower routine when we're together," he said, letting the back of his hand brush against Sam's groin.

"We'll get there, Tim."

Sam quickly washed Tim's hair and rinsed him off, seeing that he was weakening. He gingerly wrapped him in towels and helped him walk back to the bed. The nurse entered as they were getting a clean gown on him.

"I finish dat. You go get dressed, Sam?" The big Jamaican woman eyed Sam as she efficiently took over getting Tim settled back into the bed. Sam went quickly back into the bathroom.

"Hey Janna, quit ogling my boyfriend," Tim teased.

"He walk around in nothing but a towel? I look if I want," she replied, rolling her eyes with a big smile. "You ready for your pills, sunshine?"

"Uh, yeah, that really took it outta me," he sighed. She patted the top of his head.

"You get your strength back soon, sunshine. Then you can get back with that boy of yours," she winked and left.

Sam was back in his chair beside the bed when Janna returned and went through the rigmarole of dispensing medication to Tim.

"Don' forget to order breakfast, sunshine," she reminded as she went back out.

"You want scrambled eggs, baby? Or over medium?" Sam asked, reaching for the phone to call Tim's order in. Tim smiled despite his barely healed lips. He loved how well Sam knew him.

"Scrambled." He waited while Sam made the request. "You know, you're spoiling me."

Sam smiled. "You can make it up to me after we're back home."

~~~SPNCIS~~~

In the evenings when Gibbs visited, Tim often dozed while the team leader and Sam talked in low voices or sat in companionable silence. Watching Gibbs watch Tim, Sam realized he was seeing a part if the man he didn't think anyone else from NCIS got to see. Gibbs' love and concern for Tim were complex, deep emotions. Sam felt the protective air he himself gave off around Tim when Jethro sat quietly and watched Tim sleep. Tim was safe with this man, Sam decided. If there was anything Jethro could do to protect Tim, he would. Sending him on this undercover operation had to have been terribly difficult for him, but there was a zen-like serenity in Gibbs now that Tim was here, injured but recovering.

"Sometime after Tim's home, I'd like to come by some night and have you show me how to use some of those tools you have," Sam said softly. Gibbs grunted and nodded, and Sam settled back in his chair with a small smile. He liked the older agent; he reminded him a bit of Bobby, and the acceptance of his relationship with Tim made Jethro the person he felt most comfortable around in this new life. He looked forward to spending more time with him.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

It was only a few days later when Tim was released. He was allowed to go home sooner than he might have been since he had someone who would be with him all the time. Tim was exhausted by the move and the painful walk up the stairs, so Sam helped him strip down and settled him in bed for a nap.

When Tim woke, he called softly to Sam, who hurried in from the living room.

"How you feelin'? I've got your pain med schedule mapped out. You could take something if you need it."

Tim smiled. "No, I'm okay. I was just laying here thinking. Should we get a bigger place? You might enjoy having a little more room, right?"

"I've spent most of my life in motel rooms living out of a duffle bag and the Impala. If you want a larger apartment, I'm happy to help you move. Really, I'm happy with you anywhere, baby," Sam shrugged but Tim frowned at Sam's wording.

"Sam... This is _our_ home now, not just mine. _Our_ apartment, _our_ stuff... Everything I have is yours, too. So I get that you're fine in a small space, but please try to understand - and accept - what I'm saying, too."

Sam pulled his boots off and stretched out beside Tim before he answered. "I don't care about anything but you; belonging to you, Tim. I appreciate what you're saying, but..." He shrugged. "Being with you is all I want."

Sam's answer was unsettling, but when he leaned closer and kissed Tim, his thoughts took a detour and he made a mental note to come back to the conversation later.

"Sam, I want you," Tim whispered, shifting closer to his lover's side, trying to move carefully to avoid his still-tender ribs.

"Baby, I don't wanna hurt you. Maybe we should wait?"

"I just... I need to _feel_ you, to feel something good, y'know? _Please_?" Tim struggled with expressing just how deep his need to connect with Sam went. From the injuries he had sustained, he knew how close he'd been to the next part of his captor's plan. He didn't consciously recall being beaten with the baseball bat, but he knew where that object had been intended to go and it still terrified him. He needed loving. He needed tenderness in a sexual way not just the careful, kid-gloves handling Sam had been giving him. Now that he was home, he needed to know Sam still wanted him, even bruised and broken, needed to know it in his body not just his mind.

"I'm scared I'll hurt you," Sam repeated his concern. Tim looked away. Sam felt desperate. He was hurting Tim by refusing but there was no way his body could handle sex yet. "Baby, I love you. I don't know... I don't think we can - _finish_, but I can...just help you, okay? Please, though...tell me if anything is uncomfortable at all, alright?"

Tim nodded eagerly, hiding a wince at the strain that gesture put on his neck. Kissing him, careful to keep his lips on Tim's feather-light, Sam lapped delicately with his tongue, allowing no pressure on the sensitive teeth. Tim closed his eyes and gave himself over to concentrating on the sensations Sam created. Their tongues slid together sensually, sides, top and beneath, and then Sam rimmed Tim's lips

Sam moved to trace the edge of Tim's ear, down his neck, across his collarbones, keeping his body weight up on his arms so he barely brushed against Tim save where his mouth went. Drawing the covers back, Tim's nipples stood up in hard nubs that Sam smiled to see. He sucked carefully on one, then the other. Tim moaned and Sam checked to be sure it was pleasure sounds he was making. Sam skipped past the rest of Tim's chest, knowing how painful all the fractured ribs were. Instead, he gently kissed Tim's hip bones and nuzzled his balls, licking and nudging lightly. The smell of the salve from Abby that they'd been using gave way to the warm and musky scent of Tim. Sam took it in thankfully.

"Oh god, Sam, yes! Please, oh, please, please," Tim groaned. Sam shuddered. He laid his tongue flat against the root of Tim's cock and slowly slid up to the head. Tim's voice rose, his breath panting. "Oh, Sam! OhSamohSamohSam!" Sam was unsure if breathing that way would hurt him, so he engulfed the stiff member and used every trick he'd ever discovered to bring Tim to his climax as quickly as possible. The silky texture and full weight of Tim's cock filling Sam's mouth made Sam want to weep. It felt so perfect; familiar and right. Tim gave a hoarse scream as he came, and Sam's mouth filled with Tim's fluids, built up from weeks without release. He swallowed as much as he could but felt some escape the corners of his mouth. Carefully releasing him when he finished coming, Sam wiped his lips and licked them clean before he moved up to lay beside him. Tim blindly grabbed Sam's hand and held it tightly as he slowly calmed. Tears leaked from his closed eyes and Sam tenderly wiped them away and kissed his lips again.

"Oh Sam, thank you. Thank you... I need to feel you. I need you loving me, _oh god_, what would have happened... Sam, I love you. Thank you, thank you," Tim moaned the words and the tears flowed freely. Sam ghosted his hands over Tim's body, aching to hold him close but determined not to cause any pain. His fingers glided all over, barely skimming the still-colorful bruises marring Tim's soft skin. He continued to wipe the tears away. He understood now why Tim had insisted on sexual contact.

"Oh, baby, Tim, I love you. You're safe, I'm here. That felt so good Tim, god, you taste so good, I love you, baby. I love you," Sam murmured in return between kisses. When Tim finally opened his eyes Sam fell into them. The openness, the unending love that shone from Tim's gaze wrapped Sam up completely, enveloping him in warmth and perfection. "Tim..."

"I love you Sam. I'm so glad I have you in my life," Tim said softly. Sam kissed him again and they settled together, sharing a pillow, close and content.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Over the next two weeks they played, experimenting how they could have sex without aggravating Tim's injuries. As he felt better, Tim began to enjoy having so much alone time with Sam. They went to a weekday matinee of Man of Steel so they'd find close-in parking, and took slow walks in the neighborhood, lengthening them as Tim's recovery allowed. Nate dropped by several times, but Tim's nightmares had eased, and since he still had no memory of his capture, Nate agreed that with one more formal office evaluation, he'd sign off on Tim's mental fitness for duty with the caveat that should his memories or nightmares return, he pursue therapy.

Tim was due to return to desk duty the following week. Sam suggested having dinner out with Gibbs and DiNozzo, and before long the guest list became the whole team, including Ducky, and Jimmy and Breena. When Penny called, announcing her return from her tour of Tibet and China, she and Sarah rounded out the group. Tim called his favorite restaurant and reserved a private room for the eleven of them. He suggested Sam invite Dean, but Dean declined, saying he was helping Sheriff Jody Mills with something in northern Idaho. At Tim's insistence, Sam had begun calling Dean at least once a week to keep in touch. The conversations had improved in length and content, but still tended to end abruptly when Sam asked about Cas or Benny. Sam hoped the angel would return to Dean soon. His prayers to Cas for help healing Tim had gone unanswered, and he wondered if everything was okay with him in heaven.

The meal with the team went smoothly, with talk, drink, and laughter. Sam didn't volunteer much conversation but enjoyed the banter among the others. Tony flirted playfully with Sarah, whose acidic rejoinders had everyone else snickering. She had insisted on sitting next to Sam and she successfully got him into quiet conversation several times. Abby joined in with teasing comments, and Penny drew Sam out about parts of the U.S. he had seen. Jimmy and Breena invited Tim and Sam over for dinner sometime, and Ducky regaled the table with his ever-available stories. Tim glowed in his approval of the acceptance his work family and his kin showed of Sam. Gibbs quietly observed it all from the head of the table. Sam caught the looks the older man bestowed on his team members, seeing how his concern for Tim eased through the night. Catching his eye more than once, they gave one another solemn nods.

At the end of the evening, Penny drew Sarah and Tim aside when everyone else was leaving. When Sam hesitated, hovering by the door self-consciously, he overheard the news Penny shared.

"Your father is in hospice. He hid his illness from everyone, sweethearts, and now he only has a few weeks, probably. I'm so sorry," Penny's voice was calm. Sarah started to cry, and Tim put his arm around her. Sam could see the distress on Tim's face and hurried over. He wrapped one arm around Tim and Sarah and drew Penny in with the other. The family held tightly together.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

A/N Anybody thinking Tim will get away that easy psychologically? Yeah, me either. And obviously, in my 'verse, the events of 'Squall' didn't happen, but I couldn't resist writing the Admiral in. Thanks for reading.

Please review!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N Next to last chapter. Since this is all I've got mapped out for Home at this point, I find myself reluctant to let it end, and I'm trying to make sure there aren't any threads left dangling. Thanks for your patience and support. I love every favorite, follow, review, and view! Warning, the second half of this is steamy.

Chapter 6

Tim insisted he wanted Sam to come the next day to see the Admiral at the hospice. Sam had major reservations about going, but he could tell Tim needed him there not only to introduce him but also for support. No matter how bad their relationship was, saying good-bye to a parent was wrenching. Sam still ached with not having had the opportunity to say a proper farewell to his father. So he went.

The Admiral reclined in a big leather chair, the IV stand and oxygen tank standing ready seeming incongruous. A nurse was with him and excused herself when they arrived.

"Hi Dad," Tim said, slowly approaching. Penny had told him Tim was coming, shielding him from the first wave of his anger that anyone had been told about his condition. Sam hung back by the door, apprehensive.

"Tim. Glad you could make it. How's work going?" The familiar gruff voice still held authority, but had little power.

"Fine, sir." Tim swallowed hard and then dove in. "Dad, you always ask about my love life, so there's someone I want you to meet."

The Admiral's gaze went to the door, bypassing Sam entirely. Tim gestured Sam closer, and he stepped forward slowly.

"This is Sam, the love of my life."

The Admiral stared blankly for a minute.

"Huh."

His eyes fixed on Sam, ran up and down his frame, and Sam could feel his disapproval and scorn. He met the steely gaze with a level one, his chin up, jaw clenched, but determined not to aggravate the situation. When John McGee looked away from Sam, it was a dismissal, and Sam immediately felt invisible.

"Sit down, son. I don't want to crane my neck looking up at you."

Tim took the chair closest to his father, glancing nervously at Sam, who nodded encouragement.

"I guess I should have known this would happen leaving you at home with your mother and sister so much, but damnit, boy, this wouldn't have kept you from serving. There are plenty of men who spend quality time together while they're deployed and still have wives and families at home," the Admiral shook his head and sighed. Tim's jaw dropped. Of all the reactions he had imagined, this was never one he'd expected.

"Sir…Sam is the one and only man I've ever loved, or ever will. I never wanted – I'm not gay, Admiral."

"Tim, you don't have to lie to me to spare my feelings. I always knew you were soft. I should have spent more time; I should have toughened you up, so I feel like this is partly my fault. But you have to know your mother will be very disappointed if you don't marry a nice girl and have some grandkids for her."

"Mom wants me to be happy," Tim protested, addressing the only part of what had been said he felt he could.

"By which you mean you haven't told her."

Tim's face flushed. He hadn't, of course, but he had always felt loved by his mother and hoped she would be able to accept Sam as part of the family. Eventually.

The Admiral reached over and took ahold of Tim's forearm. Tim winced, then gasped when his father pulled his arm closer and shoved his shirt sleeve up. The bruises still visibly mottled his skin as far up as the sleeve could go. John McGee looked closer at his son's face and only then spotted the fading bruises there as well. Blood suffused his face and his look was furious.

"You let him hurt you? What kind of a pansy are you to let some man leave bruises like that and then tell me you love him? You let him - bend you over - and - beat your ass - before he - sticks it in...too?!" The Admiral's breath became gasping as he struggled to shout. He tried to rise and fell back into the chair, clutching at the armrests.

"_No_! Dad, please, calm down. _Dad_!" Tim called, leaning close, but the man had passed out. Sam rushed to the hall and called the nurse, who told them they needed to leave. Sam pulled Tim out with careful but insistent pressure, taking him out to the parking lot where Tim gulped the fresh air. He bent over with his hands on his knees and Sam struggled, unsure what to do. When Tim straightened, his face was pale with red blotches on his cheeks. The look he gave Sam nearly broke his heart as Tim stood there, trembling. Sam went to him and wrapped him up in a tender hug.

"_Oh my god_, Sam. That couldn't have gone worse. This is gonna kill him. What have I done, Sam? Oh my god," Tim whispered.

"Shh, shh, baby. It's okay. He was shocked, Tim, and then the bruises… We'll explain it. The case…"

"I can't tell him that! Undercover as a _gay officer_? Oh god, he thinks… _Shit_. Sam… I need to go home. Can we just go home?"

"Of course, baby. C'mon," Sam said, guiding him gently to the car and driving him back to Silver Spring.

Barely touching the food Sam heated up, Tim went to bed early to read, asserting repeatedly to Sam that he would rather be alone. Helplessly, Sam sat on the sofa and waited for Tim to go to sleep. He checked on him at ten o'clock and found his book face down on the comforter beside him and his eyes closed. Sam put the novel on the nightstand and turned out the light. He went out into the hall outside the front door to make a phone call.

"Yeah, Gibbs."

"Jethro, it's Sam. I need to know if you can get me a copy of the report on Tim's case. His father needs to see it," Sam said. He appreciated that there was no pressure for niceties on the phone with Tim's boss.

"Yeah, I'll get it. Not telling Tim?"

"His dad was an asshole, and Tim's pretty shaken up. He's back to work tomorrow, so I want to see if I can make this better before he sees the Admiral again."

"Alright. I'll send it to your apartment after Tim gets to work."

"Thanks."

"Yep."

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Sam took the file the courier had delivered and went back to the hospice. He hoped and prayed he was doing the right thing as he opened the door to the Admiral's room. The man was in the easy chair again, and he appeared to be dozing. Sam quietly approached and sat down to wait.

When the Admiral's eyes opened and he saw Sam there, he swore vehemently.

"Wait, sir. Hear me out."

The cold glare he received was as encouraging as Sam had expected, so he proceeded.

"You made several assumptions yesterday, and I want to set them right. Your son is an experienced field agent with the federal law enforcement agency that protects your _precious_ navy. He serves his country just as vigilantly as if he were _in_ the armed forces. He risks his life regularly. He was shot in the line of duty a few months ago. And those bruises you saw were sustained during an undercover operation where Tim volunteered to be bait for a serial killer. They stopped him from killing again, thanks to Tim." Sam handed him the file on the op, which he'd been unable to read after he'd seen the photos of the victims, including Tim. He hadn't known what Tim was risking when he'd taken the assignment, and his mouth still dried with fear when he thought of it. He waited while John McGee flipped through the file, watching him closely. He saw when the truth sank in. But the gaze the Admiral gave him as he closed the folder was no warmer than his first had been. Sam took the folder from him and stood. "It probably won't matter to you, but I do want you to hear me I say that I love your son. I love Tim more than life, and I would do _anything_ for him. So, even though it is _none_ of your business, I'll also set your other assumption right. It makes no difference in our relationship, but Tim's not the one who bends over, sir, that's _me_. Rethink _everything_ you think you know about him. You don't have a lot of time to get to know the amazing man your son is, and _you'll_ be missing out if you let the chance go."

With that, Sam turned on his heel and left, head high and proud of every word he'd said.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

At Sam's suggestion, Tim took Sarah with him to see their father Monday night. The visit was short since the Admiral was tired, and taken up mostly by Sarah talking about the jobs she was applying for in New York City at various publishing houses. Tim had suspicions when his father finally spoke to him as they were leaving.

"Son, injuries in the line of duty are nothing to be ashamed of. Just learn from them so they don't happen again," he said.

"Uh, okay, Dad. I'll see you tomorrow," Tim replied.

"Give a man a day off. See me the day after tomorrow."

"Alright."

Back home his raised eyebrow and tilted head were all the prompting Sam needed to explain what he'd done. Tim was shocked that Sam had revealed so much and immediately hugged him close.

"Sam, you didn't have to do that. My god, to tell _him_, of all people, that you bottom..."

"It felt good, baby. It needed saying, especially if it made him treat you better," Sam drew back and held him by the shoulders. "Tim, I am so proud of you. You are brave and strong, and I'm not _ever_ going to be ashamed to be by your side as your lover again."

"Thank you, Sam," Tim replied quietly. "Look, we're great together, but you don't need to prove anything to me, okay? Just be you. That's all I want."

Sam nodded slowly, awed once again by Tim and his love and acceptance of him.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Dean called. He really needed Sam, so after discussing it with Tim, Sam went. The Admiral was rallying, had gotten stronger, and his doctors thought he could live another month or more, so Tim urged Sam to go. The hunt was difficult, and it made sense that Dean had called him, but when it was done, Sam only took the time to urge Dean once again to contact Cas and smooth things out before he said good-bye and drove home eagerly. Home. To Tim. He drove fast.

Tim had had a completely shitty week while Sam was gone. He was stuck on desk duty still. His cell phone was stolen. When he visited his father, the Admiral barely spoke but to criticize him. Tony spilled coffee all over his favorite silk jacket. Ziva was being particularly cold and distant, and for some reason, Gibbs was pissy and targeted Tim for his outlet this time. Abby was still Abby, but he hadn't had much cause to spend time in her lab. The day Sam was coming home, Tim was trying to prepare a special dinner for him to welcome him back, but he'd burned his thumb on the roof of the oven and his mashed potatoes had turned into a lumpy, gluey mess. Oblivious to Sam's quiet entrance into the apartment while his back was to the door, Tim struggled to get the lid off of a jar of orange marmalade. The glass slipped out of his fingers and landed with a crunch on the kitchen floor.

"Shit!" Tim yelled. Sam stared in shock. Tim had never lost his temper in front of him before. "_Shitshitshit_!" Tim picked up the butter dish and raised it in his hand, preparing to smash it.

"None of that, now," Sam cautioned. Tim whirled around. He glared at Sam. "You'll just make more of a mess," Sam reasoned. Tim would have none of it. He tossed the dish onto the counter, uncaring if it broke or not, ignoring how it clattered across the surface leaving globs of butter. He stalked straight up to Sam and Sam backed a step at the look in his eyes, bumping into the wall.

"There is only one way to salvage this damnable crappy week, Sam," Tim growled. Sam raised his eyebrows, uncertain what he should say. "I am gonna fuck you senseless," Tim finished. Sam's eyes nearly popped out of his head and his jaw dropped. Tim reached up and roughly pulled Sam's face to him, giving Sam a bruisingly hard kiss. His tongue shoved into Sam's mouth, and when he backed off, it was to bite Sam's lower lip.

"Ow," Sam breathed. This wild, angry Tim was a whole new experience to him. Tim tore at Sam's clothes, pulling the long-sleeved flannel shirt over his head and down his arms, jerking it off his hands so hard the cuff buttons flew off. Next he ripped his t-shirt when it didn't come off fast enough. He attacked Sam's nipples ferociously, and Sam cried out with the pain/pleasure of it. Tim moved up to Sam's neck, still tweaking, twisting, and bit Sam again, sucking a bruise right over his artery. Sam's hips bucked forward in response, but before Tim could brutally remove his jeans, Sam kicked his shoes off and his fingers flew to unfasten and unzip. Tim grunted in satisfaction as he dropped to his knees, stripping Sam as he went. He wrapped his mouth around Sam's thick hard-on and sucked.

"Ah! Tim! _Fuck_!" The assault wasn't unwelcome, but it was shocking. Tim was like a ravenous animal, slavering up and down Sam's cock. But Sam should have known that Tim had a plan, even in his sex-crazed state. The saliva dripping from Sam's balls was quickly smeared back and Tim thrust a finger into him; Sam almost collapsed, totally overwhelmed by Tim's aggression. He threw his head back, banging it on the wall. His desire rose, the sensations of the blow-job and the penetration, along with the unusual forcefulness Tim was exhibiting bringing him to a fever pitch. He put his hand on Tim's head and encouraged him to speed up. Tim's free hand came up and backhanded Sam's forearm, knocking his hand away. Sam looked down at his lover in shock. Tim's eyes blazed blue-green fire as he glared up at Sam. The sight of Tim's sensuous lips stretched around his cock coupled with that incredible look of determination was nearly Sam's undoing. Tim's eyes opened wide in surprise when he felt Sam's balls tighten with imminent release. He withdrew all stimulation and sat back on his heels, smirking in satisfaction as Sam shuddered and moaned, sagging against the wall. Sam's hand reached for his dick, obviously desperate for the release Tim had denied him. Tim again slapped Sam's hand away. He stood up and took Sam by the back of the neck, forcing him to open the eyes he'd closed in his frustration.

"You are going to come when I am buried in your ass, pounding you into next week, and not before. Got it?" Tim articulated slowly. Sam's chest was heaving, but he nodded. Tim kissed him, pleased with Sam's acquiescence, and gave the briefest half-smile before he stepped on Sam's clothing with one foot. He jerked his head, indicating Sam should step out of the jeans and underwear and into the kitchen. Knees weak, Sam did as he was instructed but stumbled slightly. Tim caught his waist and steadied him. Sam closed his eyes at the feel of the long fingers gripping his hip. Tim turned Sam by the hold, encouraging him to face the counter. His eyes swept the area as he unfastened his own pants, freeing his aching cock, and he snagged the bottle of olive oil. Using the condiment to prepare Sam, he gasped as Sam moaned, bending forward and pushing back against Tim's fingers. Tim was ready to explode, so to give himself time to regain control, he continued to finger Sam and listen to his groaning curses for a while before withdrawing and lining himself up.

"Oh, Tim! _Please_, please," Sam begged. The violent desire Tim had felt returned, and he slammed into Sam. Sam yelped and arched his back, rising onto his toes. Tim leaned over Sam's broad back and wrapped one arm around him. The other he braced next to Sam's on the counter, and then he started thrusting. Sam groaned, his breath hitching, as Tim pounded into him. It had never been like this before, Tim demanding, taking. It was so incredibly fucking hot.

Tim rode him hard and fast, ramming deep, skin slapping noisily, all his frustrations from their time apart incinerating in the heat of passion. Missing Sam had been the worst part of his bad week, the misery of trying to sleep in the empty bed, of the smell of Sam fading from his pillow as the days went by, and now, finally being with him, Tim felt like himself again. Chanting Sam's name as he fucked him, tears ran down his cheeks and dripped onto Sam's back, his relief painful in its intensity. Sam's hand moved to twine with his on the edge of the counter, and the generosity, the love in the gesture while Tim felt like he was debasing him made Tim's voice rise in octaves as it brought him closer to finishing. Suddenly, his orgasm began, and Tim sobbed as the long, powerful pulses blinded him. To Sam it felt like he should taste come in his throat with how hard Tim was shooting into him, and he cried out as his own climax tore through him, long sticky spurts painting the cabinet door before him. Frozen together in the rictus of extreme ecstasy like some homoerotic statue, the post-orgasmic exhaustion eventually took hold and dropped them to the floor together, entangled and boneless.

Sam held his lover as Tim's breath continued to hitch with his weeping, stroking his head and back. With a final sniffle, Tim settled.

"Bad week, huh? Might try to get Murphy's Law to bite you again sometime. That was fucking _hot_, baby," Sam murmured. Tim gave a shaky chuckle.

"No more weeks this bad while you're gone. And if you're here they just aren't ever this bad, so... I think you are out of luck. I'd be willing to try for a reenactment sometime, but I don't want a repeat," Tim replied.

"Mmm. I missed you, too," Sam said, smiling. "And since hot sex is something we've never had a dearth of, I'd just as soon keep on, together."

Tim snuggled closer, comforted knowing Sam hadn't felt violated by his aggression and even a little pleased he'd liked it. "Together. Yeah."

~~~SPNCIS~~~

A/N One chapter to go! I hope I don't offend anyone with Admiral McGee's comments. Thank you for all the views, I love knowing there are people out there checking these stories out. If you enjoy them but not enough to favorite, reviewing helps boost visibility, too. Even guest reviews!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N Last chapter. Big reveal and guest appearance at the end. No, it wasn't all a dream. :-)

Chapter 7

"Hold it a little higher, Timmy," Abby ordered. Tim stretched his arms up, holding red-white-and-blue bunting above the glass wall into Abby's office. She was checking all of her sight-lines to be sure the decorations wouldn't hinder her. Tim had been helping now for over an hour after he was off the clock. His shoulders ached and his still-healing ribs kept him breathing shallowly. "Do you think the bunting is too much? The streamers and bows are pretty good on their own."

"You think of this _now_? Abs, c'mon, the Admiral and Colonel from Okinawa are used to pomp. Let's just finish, okay?" Tim could hear the whiney edge to his own voice but he didn't care at this point. 'Give me a hand for a second' had gone too far. He was tired. His body ached. He wanted to go home to Sam and Jethro. The old dog seemed happier than ever spending all his time with Sam.

"Just a few more, Timmy!"

Tim sighed.

Ten minutes later, holding the end of an eight foot banner so high he was on his tiptoes, a wave of cold washed through him and he screamed hoarsely. A flash of memory overwhelmed him; seeing the blonde wood swinging toward him, hearing the thump, accompanied by a sickening pop of his ribs. He collapsed to his knees, struggling not to vomit as terror and pain flooded through him. An image of the killer, shoving the end of the bat into his stomach, his eyes wild, blinked into his mind, followed by more shivering nausea.

Frantically, Abby called for Ducky only to find he had already left. Jimmy rushed up instead and between the two of them they got the hyperventilating Tim onto the couch in Abby's office, had him breathing into a bag, and called Sam. The rest of the team had gone home so they stayed close, Abby pushing Bert into his arms and Jimmy covering his trembling body with a blanket. Abby called the gate to warn them Sam was coming and they waited tensely for his arrival.

Sam's escort through the building ran to keep up with his rapid strides. Sam's face was pale and he rushed over to Tim as if pulled to his side, ignoring everything else.

Abby and Jimmy stood back and watched in shock as Tim began recovering almost instantly with Sam beside him. The tall man knelt and touched Tim's face and Tim took a deep inhale, then his breathing normalized. He dropped the bag he'd been intermittently breathing into, dropped Bert, and nearly rolled off the couch reaching for Sam. Sam caught him and held him, whispering quietly, and in less than a minute, Tim was on his feet. Sam held him tight against his side and they slowly began to walk out.

"Timmy, I'm so sorry - "

"Later please, Abby," Sam interrupted. They went into the elevator and on toward home.

Tim felt exhausted, like he had run a marathon on two days of no sleep. He yawned hugely in the car more than once, and his brain felt sluggish. At home, Sam tried to get him to eat but he could only manage a few bites before he set his fork down. Tempting him, Sam got him to eat a Nutter Butter and then they went to bed early. In a surreal fog, Tim let Sam undress him and they lay down. When Tim began shivering, Sam tucked the comforter close around them and drew Tim tight against his chest. The shivering subsided as Tim fell asleep, only to return after each nightmare which woke him, pain and fear causing him to call out for Sam.

"You're safe, I'm here," Sam repeated over and over. Tim would settle, shaking, and fall back into his nightmare, waking them both again and again. It was less restful than simply staying awake, and at 5:30, Sam decided action needed to be taken.

"Tim, baby, we've gotta do something. I'm gonna call Jethro," Sam said quietly. Tim jerked in his arms.

"No! Sam, you _cannot_ tell Gibbs. Please. It'll pass," Tim shook his head violently.

"Baby, it's flashbacks. It's your memory coming back. You've gotta deal with this. He'll understand."

"No. _Promise_ me you won't tell him. You _can't_ tell him. Please, Sam, _please_. Promise me. _Promise_!"

Sam sighed. He'd dealt with Dean's sometimes unreasonable stubbornness so long that this felt disturbingly familiar. Tim normally kept a very clear head and was extremely rational, so Sam knew this was the fear, exhaustion, and stress talking. He nodded to calm Tim's frantic begging.

"Okay, Tim. I won't call Gibbs. Relax, baby. It's okay," Sam soothed him and when Tim's eyes closed, his breathing deepened again, his body desperate for rest which Sam knew wouldn't come. "Hey, why don't you take a shower. You were sweating alot last night. Maybe hot water and some food will help you shake this. I'll make coffee, okay?"

Tim's thoughts were still jumbled, but Sam's reasoning seemed sound so he nodded and let himself be pushed gently toward the bathroom.

Sam started the coffee then picked up his phone. He would honor his words not to call Gibbs. He wasn't the best person to call, anyway. He looked up the contact he wanted and punched the button.

"Getz," a voice answered quickly. The connection had static and was a little broken, but Sam sighed in relief at the sound of the psychologist's voice. He explained what had happened in the lab and how badly the night had gone.

"Okay, Sam. You did the right thing calling me. Unfortunately I'm out of the country. I know Tim's NCIS psych file, though, so I'm gonna refer you to a guy who specializes in crisis counselling who Tim has met before. His name is Miles Wolf. I'm gonna call Agent Gibbs and let him know what's going on. This isn't unexpected, Sam. I'm actually glad it happened in such a controlled environment rather than in the field. He's gonna get better. Just do what Wolf says. I'll tell him about you, about how close you are with Tim. Relax, Sam. It's gonna be okay," Nate said. Sam hung on every staticky word and nodded slowly.

"Thanks, Nate. Really... Thanks," Sam mumbled.

"Sam, you are incredible with Tim. Supportive but not smothering, protective but not overbearing. Your relationship is one of the healthiest I've ever seen with a field agent. Keep doing what you've been doing, and this will be over as quickly as it can be."

"Okay. Thanks."

"Bye."

Sam hung up. He looked toward the bedroom door and saw Tim standing there with a towel wrapped around his waist, a shocked and hurt look on his drawn face.

"I didn't call Gibbs," Sam rushed to reassure him.

Tim relaxed marginally. "Who then? Tony?"

"Hell no. Nate."

Tim nodded. "And?"

"And he wants you to see a guy named Wolf. Said you know him."

Tim frowned. "One evaluation doesn't mean I know him or that he knows me."

"Nate says he's a specialist. Said he's the best person to get you through this as fast as possible," Sam said warily. Mentioning getting over it quickly was the key. Tim relaxed further and nodded.

"Let's go see him."

"Hang on. Go get dressed. It's 6 am, we're gonna hafta wait. I'm gonna make you some eggs, and you're _going to_ eat them."

Tim made a stubborn face which looked amazingly like a pouty nine year old, and Sam kept a straight face just long enough for him to turn around to go back into the bedroom as ordered before breaking into a smile. It was the same face Sarah had made when she'd come to Tim for help and found Sam.

Tim was still pouting as he came out, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, and sat down at the counter to wait obediently for the eggs Sam was cooking.

"You know, I was perfectly happy with my traumatic amnesia," Tim said sulkily. Sam turned from plating the eggs and stared at Tim, his eyebrows raised. Sam's lips twitched and that set Tim off, giggling at the absurdity of his statement. His phone buzzing with a call sobered Tim instantly.

"Damnit," Tim muttered. His caller ID read Gibbs. Sam looked at the phone.

"Nate must have called him. He had to find out, Tim. It's gonna be fine. Go ahead and talk to him."

"McGee," Tim answered. Sam waited while he listened. "Okay. Yeah." Tim nodded. "Thanks, boss." He disconnected. Sam waited. "You're right. He's not mad, just concerned. But I feel like... Like I've disappointed him," his voice hitched. Sam knew that Tim was feeling completely raw and vulnerable after the ordeal of his flashback and the night of broken sleep. His normally pale skin was translucent, the tiny blue veins visible, his eyes sunken and hollow. The weight he'd lost in the last month during his recovery made him appear positively fragile. Sam carefully gathered him close and held him. He shook with the need to shelter Tim, to do whatever he could to make him feel better. Right then that meant telling him what Sam knew to be an unspoken truth.

"Jethro cares so much about you, baby. He wants you to be healthy, and while he misses you when you can't work at full capability, he'd rather you get well."

"How do _you_ know?" Tim's words were muffled against Sam's neck and he sounded exhausted.

"I've gotten a really good read on him, Tim. I can see right through him." Sam's statements were true. Gibbs' behavior with Tim as well as the look in the gruff and taciturn man's eyes had spoken volumes for Sam.

"Well, he said we've got an appointment with Wolf at ten, downtown," Tim said.

"Then take your time eating while I shower," Sam instructed. Tim nodded and sat down, his shoulders slumping again. Sam shook his head and went to get himself ready. Before he undressed, he prayed quietly, asking for Cas' help, unsure if the angel would be able to do anything for Tim's PTSD, but he didn't appear and Sam determined he'd see Tim through this himself, whatever it took.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

"So the 'pensive academic' went out of his comfort zone and took an undercover assignment. That's splendid!" Wolf said, referring to the so-called tribal name from his psych file, as he walked into the office and sat down.

"There's nothing _splendid_ about this, doctor," Sam growled. He sat close beside Tim on the plush loveseat. They'd barely had introductions before Tim insisted they get started.

"Right. Of course. Sorry. Now let me tell you: Dr Getz was very impressed with your relationship; with the bond you have." Tim glanced at Sam and the stress lines on his face softened.

"That's because we're great together. The - the little bit of memory that's come back... Of, um, what are we gonna call this? My abduction? That time I was beaten with a baseball bat?" Tim tried for levity but Sam saw his hands shaking, so he took one in his. Again, Tim reacted. The slump his shoulders had taken vanished and he sat comfortably straight.

"How about your torture?" Wolf suggested. Tim tensed and took a deep breath.

"Considering the reaction I just had to that word, that's probably appropriate. So in the memory of...my torture, I recall withdrawing into thoughts of Sam."

"Your self-awareness is good. It reinforces my plan for the type of therapy I want to try. Your relationship and the reactions I have already observed regarding Sam will mesh well also. Let me explain somatic experiencing," the doctor said. Describing how he would gently lead Tim into describing the physical sensations his traumatic memories elicited, then draw him back into safe, positive thoughts with resources they would identify. They worked for a few minutes on finding positive relationships, experiences, and locations, but Wolf eventually frowned that every way he questioned Tim brought the agent right to Sam.

"Doc, I have other people who support me, but Sam is the one who makes the good things great and the bad things better. I can only imagine that when I was a baby I felt the comfort and security I feel when I'm in Sam's arms as I did when my mother held me. It's _that_ deep, _that_ fundamental. This... This memory recall, these flashbacks... It's the worst experience of my life other than when I almost lost Sam. So forgive me if he's the ultimate safe place for my mind when I'm going through this!"

Wolf eventually conceded, and they worked out the vocabulary they'd use and touched lightly on the way the sessions would go.

"Alright, then. I think three sessions a week will be - "

"What?" Tim interrupted. "No. Let's do this _now_, let's get it done. I need to be able to work." Sam took his hand as Tim leaned forward aggressively and his voice grew louder.

"Tim, this is therapy, not a magic bullet. It is a process which will take however long it takes," Wolf said smoothly.

"No. No, Nate told Sam..." Tim turned to Sam, panic rising. "You said..."

Sam brought his hand up and gently laid it on Tim's flushed cheek, staring directly into his eyes. Tim felt himself relax, everything else vanishing except for Sam. Tears filled his eyes at the unending love, compassion, and support he read in his lover's expression, and he sighed in resignation.

Wolf observed closely, enthralled by the interaction. It felt voyeuristic to see the intimate exchange, but the intensity of the moment precluded him looking away.

They made an appointment for the following day, Wolf gave Tim a prescription for a sleep aid, and the couple went home. Tim took one of the pills and Sam held him until it took effect and it became apparent that Tim would get his much needed rest as he sank into a deep slumber.

Sam called Gibbs and briefly informed him about the rest of their morning.

"Vance gave him leave the rest of this week and all of next. After that he'll be back on desk duty until Wolf gives the okay to go back in the field. Maybe the ribs'll be better by then, too," Gibbs said.

"You noticed they're still tender, huh? Yeah, the bone bruises are still rough, too," Sam nodded. Gibbs watched Tim so closely he wasn't surprised at the observation.

"I know you'll take care of him," Gibbs replied. "When he's able, get him working out, too. He's gotten too skinny."

"I know. I will."

"Keep me updated."

"I will. Thanks, Jethro."

"Uh-huh."

~~~SPNCIS~~~

The sessions with Wolf were exhausting, and both Tim and Sam were grateful for the pills which allowed Tim to rest without the nightmares. They enjoyed spending all their time together again, and Tim began to encourage Sam to start doing career and employment tests online. Sam had confessed how difficult it was for him when Tim was away, even if only for a normal work day, and they bounced job ideas off each other at random intervals.

"Teacher."

"Lawyer."

"Bodyguard."

"Private Investigator."

"Work for Krista."

"Dog walker."

"EMT."

"Docent at a museum."

"Coach."

"Hey, baby, this one came up with the same thing as the last two," Sam called. Tim was in the kitchen making lunch while Sam completed a thousand question employment quiz.

"Yeah? What do you think? I _love_ the idea," Tim said.

"You just want me on a calendar."

"Hell, yeah!"

Sam shook his head, smiling, then entered a search on his computer: 'How to become a firefighter'.

They went to see the Admiral every few days, Tim continuing to insist that Sam accompany him. John McGee stubbornly refused to spend time in the bed and was always in the recliner when they visited. Sam he mostly ignored, but Tim didn't avoid talking about them or their relationship if it came up in conversation. The Admiral did seem to have either taken Sam's words to heart about getting to know his son or he felt the proverbial scythe over his head and chose it himself. He asked Tim about his work, mostly, and he seemed genuinely interested in Tim's responses. His health remained tenuous, but Tim commented once on their way home that the man was too stubborn to die on someone else's schedule.

Once Tim was back to desk work, Sam started checking off every suggestion he could find online for getting a job as a firefighter. He began volunteering at several places; a local youth center, one of the hospitals, and an animal shelter. Beginning EMT training and voraciously studying everything he could find about the firefighting industry filled his days with activities other than pining over Tim and working out, and Tim marveled at the change in Sam's demeanor. He laughed more, was more relaxed and just generally content.

When Dean visited while he was on his way back from a hunt in New York state, he commented once to Tim that he hadn't ever seen Sam look so happy.

"I don't think you ever said you wanted to be a fireman when you were a kid, Sammy," Dean said over several beers as the brothers spent time alone before Dean left for Kansas.

"Yeah, I know. But it just feels right, y'know? Helping people... That's what we were raised to do. This is just the mundane world version of it."

"Huh. Well, whatever, dude," Dean shrugged. He took a long pull from his bottle. "I, uh, saw Cas."

Sam's breath caught. It had been months since either of them had seen the angel. He saw the tension in Dean's shoulders and played it cool.

"Yeah? How's he doin'?"

"Alright, I guess. He's been in Heaven, atoning or some such shit. So the stick is partway back up his ass."

Sam tried not to smile at the snide, innuendo laden response that ran through his mind. He took another drink instead.

"He say how things are..._up there_?"

"Sounds like some bureaucratic shuffling's happening, but nothing dramatic. He said he'd be, uh, listening, if we need him, but his place is there while they get their shit together. I don't know. It was awkward."

"But you saw him. That's a good first step."

"First step toward what, Sammy?" Dean demanded. Sam raised his hands placatingly.

"Toward having your best friend back, Dean. That's what I told him you wanted when I talked to him before he left."

Dean's aggression subsided.

"How's Benny?"

"Still in Louisiana. He's working in a friggin' diner. Finally admitted he's watching over his _grand_-daughter who runs the place."

"His granddaughter? As in..."

"His kid's kid, yeah, from before he was turned into a vamp."

"Wow. That's...weird."

"Uh-huh."

They drank in companionable silence after that. Sitting in the familiar passenger seat of the Impala when Dean pulled up to drop Sam off at the apartment, Sam wasn't surprised that Dean relaxed and finally commented on how Sam seemed. He always felt the most comfortable in the safety of the car.

"You know that'll always be your spot, man. But, uh, I'm glad you're happy here, Sammy."

"Thanks, Dean. You just...be careful out there," Sam replied quietly. He couldn't bring himself to admit just how much he worried about this brother hunting on his own. He was extremely relieved that Cas was making himself available for back-up again, finally.

"Eh, where's the fun in that?" Came the cocky reply as Sam got out of the car.

Sam smiled.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

"That sucked," Sam snarled as they walked into the apartment. Sam chucked his keys onto the counter and turned to face Tim. Tim closed the door and looked at him questioningly.

"What did you expect me to do? It worked," Tim said defensively. On their way back from one of Tim's last therapy sessions, Tim had made an illegal turn and been pulled over. The cute female cop had taken a shine to Tim's "pretty eyes", and had smiled and shuffled her feet and hinted that maybe she'd let him go with a warning for his number.

"Seeing you flirt with someone else... I wanted to hit something," Sam declared. His jaw was clenched, lips pressed tight. He looked like a fierce thundercloud. Tim tried not to smile. Sam's frown deepened as Tim's mouth twitched and the twinkle in his eye grew more and more obvious with his amusement. Sam's nostrils flared and his eyes opened wide then narrowed. "Tim..." Sam growled warningly. Tim let the impish grin take over and he laughed when Sam grabbed him by the shoulders, looking murderous.

"You're totally jealous," Tim finally chortled. Sam huffed like a bull and stared daggers into Tim's sparkling eyes.

"_Tim_!" Sam's voice cracked like a whip.

Tim's expression grew gentler, and his smile became sweet. He brought his hands up to touch Sam's face, long fingers stroking the knotted muscles. "Thank you," Tim whispered. Sam's grip on Tim loosened and he swallowed hard. "Even after all we've been through, to have you get this upset, this worked up, because I flirted with some woman... It reminds me what I mean to you, Sam."

"You... You say I'm yours. When we're in bed, you say it a lot. Tim... I _am_ yours, but, baby, you're mine, too," Sam's voice was a hoarse whisper. "I've known from the first time we hooked up in your hotel room that I belonged to you, but damnit, Tim, you're _mine_. You belong to me... Don't you?"

Tim leaned close to Sam, gazing up into his eyes from a breath away. "Of course I'm yours, Sam. _Always_, only yours."

Sam closed the distance and kissed him hard, wrapping his arms tightly around him. Tim slipped his arms around Sam's waist and let himself be possessed.

Sam's tongue was insistent but languorous as he kissed Tim, and Tim surrendered completely. Relaxing, pliant in Sam's embrace, Tim immersed in the sensuality of utter abandon. Sam held him firmly, kissing him long and thoroughly, and when he finally broke off, found Tim in a nearly mindless state of arousal. Lips parted, cheeks flushed, his eyes closed and his head tilted back, awaiting the return of Sam's attentions; Tim's acceptance of Sam's assertiveness was total. Sam kissed him again, feeling Tim stroke his back lightly, not passively submitting, but instead subtly encouraging. Tim arched his back, pressing himself against Sam, and Sam held him tighter.

Wanting to explore this new experience fully, Sam bent his knees and shifted his grip on Tim, lifting him up. Tim immediately responded, hopping up and locking his legs around Sam's waist, holding onto him, making it as easy as possible for Sam to carry him into the bedroom.

Sam laid Tim on the bed and stood beside it, watching. Tim looked up at him with the tiniest smile, waiting.

"Anything you want, Sam. I'm yours," Tim said softly. Sam unfastened his shirt, letting it fall to the floor, then climbed onto the bed. He pulled Tim's shirt off, then settled himself on top of him. The heat of their bare skin brought Sam back from the dream-like state he'd fallen into, to a more carnal and demanding one. He kissed Tim again, harder, and moved on to his neck, nipping hard enough to leave red marks as he moved down. At the hollow of Tim's throat and across his clavicles, he left darker marks, giving Tim a necklace of bruising hickeys. Tim moaned and ran his hands up and down Sam's sides and back. His head tossed restlessly, and his hips rocked against Sam.

Pulling up, Sam studied Tim, noting how their breathing was tandem; heavy and rapid. The blush on Tim's pale skin was gorgeous, and coupled with the moist plushness of Tim's mouth, Sam shook with his need for him.

"Oh, god," Sam revered. "_Mine, mine_."

Tim's clear eyes opened and his breath hitched at the wondering expression on Sam's face.

"Of course, my sweet, sweet Sam. My love. Only yours," Tim whispered, and Sam kissed him again.

They rode the fervid waves, emotion matching the physical responses as kissing and touching, tasting and stroking brought them both to tears with the depth of feeling they provoked.

Eventually, stripped naked literally and figuratively, Sam rolled over, pulling Tim on top of him. He blindly retrieved the lube from the nightstand and single-handedly used it on Tim, then raised his knees. Tim smoothly obeyed the unspoken direction and pushed into him. Their eyes locked and the moment suspended. Lighter eyes searched darker, and were in turn studied; what they found was a bottomless well of acceptance and desire, companionship and complete understanding. Two bodies moved in total rapport, a single entity. Nothing else existed.

Sensation built and plateaued and built again. It wasn't a calculated marathon of intercourse as they'd occasioned previously; it was ascension to a level of unification and ecstatic pleasure untoward. The tension mounted to a fevered, sobbing desperation; when the release began, they were transported, transcendent. The pleasure went on and on, shredding the last vestiges of individuality, bonding them more profoundly than any life-threatening experience or physical contact had previously.

Returning to some semblance of a normal, individual state was incremental for Sam. Light registered first, its source down and to his right. A doorway. A scent...commingled sweat and an aftershave that brought with it a plethora of happy impressions. Pressure. A warm weight across his body; a beloved sensation. The sighing of breath, not his own, but precious all the same. Arms, languid and fatigued, tightened on the man atop him. Tim. _His_ Timothy McGee.

The squeeze of strong arms around him brought Tim out of his endorphin haze. "Oh, Sam," he sighed. Sam's legs shifted, dropping down, stretching out flat on the bed and Tim moved, getting himself into a more comfortable position resting on Sam's firm chest. He was shaken to his core by what they had experienced. He slowly raised his head to look at Sam. His expression was heartbreakingly raw. "I never knew... Sam, I've been yours since our first kiss, since Stanford, _no_, before - _Arizona_... I've needed you like _air_ since then. I'm yours, _utterly_, always, love. _Always_."

Sam tightened his arms around Tim. Finally. He finally had something perfect and precious, this man, brilliant and loving and strong and sensual... And his. His own. His everything.

Tim watched Sam succumb to sleep, a smile on his lips, and Tim melted back down onto his lover, slipping gently into slumber right behind him.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

Sam fell asleep, more content than he had ever imagined...

...and found himself sitting up in a horribly familiar motel room with Asia playing on the ancient clock radio.

"No!" He cried, terrified beyond reason that he had been thrown back to that Tuesday, that terrible, repeated Tuesday years ago, with Dean dying over and over, destined for hell, and Tim far away in DC, oblivious, not his, never knowing...

"_Relax_, Sammykins," a perky voice said. "Just a dream."

Sam turned his head slowly, his whole body quaking hard enough to make the bed creak. The archangel Gabriel, once known to Sam as the Trickster, stood by the door with an impish smirk on his face. "Congratulations! You've finally completed the bond with-"

"What are we doing here?" Sam demanded. His terror made him aggressive and his voice boomed through the small space.

"What? Oh, I just figured a little familiarity so you'd recognize – Never mind," the archangel snapped his fingers and immediately looked around in distaste. They stood together in the middle of Tim's apartment. "Really? I let your mind pick anyplace, specifying only that you feel comfortable and safe, and a crappy one bedroom in Silver Spring is _it_?" He shook his head. "Whatever. I guess it just reinforces what I'm here to tell you anyway."

Sam relaxed, immediately comforted by the familiar surroundings, light-headed with relief that he was here...home. "Gabriel, but you're - "

"Dead? Yeah, that sucks. Didn't see that one coming." He snapped and created a lush velvet chair then dropped into it.

"Then how - "

"I put a little piece of me into your brain, Samsquatch, so I could make the big reveal in person. Sort of." He shrugged, then spread his arms in a grandiose gesture. "I am your benefactor. I have given you the chance lovers and poets throughout the ages have dreamt about - "

"Yeah, you shot me and Tim with cupid's arrows. I know that," Sam interrupted. "I'm not mad - "

"_Mad_?! I give you the chance for a true soulmate and you _'aren't mad'_?!" Gabriel shook his head. "You are one lucky little pissant human, you know? If I was actually here, not just a figment..."

"No, I'm grateful, Gabriel, I truly am. Tim is..." His expression softened and his mind continued the sentence: _sweet, beautiful, sexy, smart, perfect_...

"Oh please don't wax poetic! I searched hearts and minds the world over and beyond for him. I know what he means to you, SammySam, and now you do, too." The angel's head bobbed in his excitement.

"Huh?"

"If you'd have let me finish! You've finally accepted the bond between you."

"The bond made by cupid's arrows?"

"No! The arrows make you fall in love, they don't dictate what you do about it," Gabriel huffed.

"Gabriel, _what are you talking about_?!" Sam was getting frustrated as always with the snarky little archangel.

Gabriel shook his head and looked to the heavens. "You! That big brain hidden in that cro-magnon skull of yours finally accepted and internalized that Tim belongs to _you_ as much as _you_ belong to _him_! I put the possibility in place that if you could love him enough, and accept _his_ love, you'd become soulmates."

Sam stared at him, eyes and mind full of emotion. His chest tightened. That meant so much... It meant that Tim was his forever, that if they both went to Heaven when they died, they'd be together, that he was _truly_ never going to be alone again...

"Why?" The question came out in a breathy whisper.

Gabriel's expression darkened. "What?"

"Why did you do this for me? I-I can't ever repay a debt like this..."

The archangel's shoulders relaxed and the twinkle returned to his eye. "What do you mean, why?"

"Why _me_?"

The angel's expression grew as thoughtful as it ever got. "Maybe because you saved my brothers. Lucifer and Michael didn't kill each other because of you. Maybe because you give up everything for everyone else at _every_ opportunity, never even considering that _you_ deserve to have love and life more than other humans _because_ you do care so much. Maybe because I care, too, somehow, more than I should." He shook his head then shrugged. "Sometimes, you get what you deserve, Sammy. In a _good_ way."

"And him being a guy..."

Gabriel rolled his eyes theatrically. "What part of _'searched the world over'_ don't you - oh, never mind. So his body has a penis instead of ovaries: _so what_? And you haven't even noticed the changes I made so you're perpetually all squeaky-clean, have you? You could even thank me for all the mind-blowing sex you two have had...well, that's mostly just you two, but still," he sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Neither one of you needs anyone to be whole. You're each balanced: strength, heart, mind. You're more like a matched set: instead of a fraction and a fraction making one, you are _one_ and _one_ equaling _two_! You get to go out in the world together and instead of just _more of the same_, you'll increase everyone you come in contact with. Now that you're together, you..." His eyes were alight and he spread his hands again, this time to indicate the endless possibilities.

Sam swallowed hard. "And Dean-"

"Ugh! Dean! You are not responsible for him! He is not responsible for you! Everyone makes their own choices. He needs to go his own way, do his own thing, find out who he is, and you can't do that for him. In fact, you getting out of his way might even help him."

"But he'll be alone-"

"Dean's only alone if he chooses it. He's got his own little guardian angel, and his pet vampire: _everybody_ loves the tortured soul that is Dean. He _has_ support. He always _has_ had. You're the one who only had _him_. He made sure of that."

Sam paled. "What do you mean?"

"Hello? Dysfunctional Dean has sabotaged every chance of a normal life you've ever had. All the while saying he wants you to grow old and have a family. Believe-you-me, he has a better chance at finding an authentic life of his own _without_ you around all the time."

Sam just stared at him, and then the concern over his brother became rapidly eclipsed by the transcendent joy that Tim was his, _forever_. And this obnoxious little guy was responsible for that.

"Obnoxious! Hrmph," Gabriel grumbled. "And anyway, before you go all gushy, I just gave you the opportunity. You had the courage and heart to follow through."

Overwhelmed, Sam dropped to his knees in front of the velvet chair and looked up into the honey brown eyes, so filled with unnamable emotions that Sam was nearly speechless. "Gabriel, I..."

A light was beginning to glow from the angel, glorious wings of golden light spreading behind him, washing out the illusion of the apartment, opening up to encapsulate the entire metro area of Washington DC, of the eastern seaboard, of the United States, the oceans, the world...

"_Good job, kiddo_," Gabriel's voice whispered to him in benediction, and the love in that voice was greater than the wings, bigger than the world, more than Sam's mind could possibly comprehend...

So he woke. Tears wet the pillow under his cheek, dampening Tim's hair where he snuggled close. Sam stared at his lover, his soulmate, for a long time before he gently woke him with a kiss so he could share the revelation he'd received.

When he was done telling Tim what Gabriel had said, Tim's cheeks were wet as well, and they held each other silently.

"Soulmates, huh?" Tim finally responded. Sam tensed. "Shh, don't," he said, reassuringly stroking Sam's chest. Sam swallowed hard and consciously relaxed. "Sam... You're _everything_ to me. I could get poetic and say it in metaphor, but plain and simple: Angels may have made me fall in love with you, but I wouldn't have it any other way. You're part of me: a consideration in every decision, every moment. This...it's actually quite freeing. It means that if something happens to either of us, it's not the end. We're assured of a bond beyond death, and since losing you has been the biggest fear of my life, well... I'm relieved."

"I love how you see things. You take in every angle, every eventuality, and in an instant, you distill it to the essential core. I'm still scared of the possibility of something happening to you, of living without you, but you're right. Knowing we'll be together after...it makes the thought bearable. I just hope neither of us have to bear it long when the time comes."

Tim shuddered. As much as he understood logically that now, with this incredible bond firm between them, it would be a temporary separation if he lost Sam, imagining it happening shook him, frightening him in a way that made him wonder if he'd long survive it. Sam tilted Tim's face up to his and looked deeply into his eyes, having felt Tim's reaction and completely empathizing with the cause.

"We can't know when one of us might have to be alone for a while, baby. Just focus on the amazing gift we've been given: the certainty of forever."

The smile Tim gave Sam was beatific. "That is _amazing_." He closed the distance between them, and their first kiss, both knowing they had eternity stretched out before them, was the sweetest that they had ever shared.

~~~SPNCIS~~~

The End

A/N So that's all for now. I have a bunch of 'deleted scenes' from the writing of Home, which I may post like a dvd extra (how's 'Lost Along the Way Home' sound as a title for those?), depending on if ya'll want them or not. Let me know in a review or PM and I may polish them up and post them. Otherwise, thank you all for joining me on this fun and sexy journey.

Special thanks to Crawcolady, Hostaqueen, LeeMarieJack, Eraseus, Hazelmom, 88keys, leobutler, Chococino72, Akrosin, ElSaTa, Cleartorture, gypsymooneysgirl7733, Smartkid37, tenebrae di oblio, Anake14, Emi-Lyn, shadowdweller25, silver-fairy0101, Spitfire17268, TormentedGirl, Dawnhallj, Awkwardly-graceful, Little Soldier Mine, Irstevens, 1sunfun, Mongoose Peasant, and every other view, review, favorite, and follow from now until the end, full stop!


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